I had an early jolt this morning when I woke up to a conversation between my siblings wondering what a particular word referred to. This was a nickname given to me by our grandfather who died nearly 30 years ago; no one else uses it other than one of his children, very occasionally. It was a slight shock that none of them – they are all younger than me – knew, when in a way the nickname is a part of me, and I would answer to it unconsciously if someone called it out, as much as my own name.
I had a second jolt when they were amused by it – again, like one’s own name, I had never thought of how it sounds or thought anything overly odd about it. I was hurt for a moment, but of course they hadn’t even heard or remembered the nickname so for them it was just a silly-sounding word, so I simply said that I don’t mind it.