MYLIFE

Death

It always seemed surreal to me. Someone in my family would die and my Dad would tell me, "You met them before." And we'd go to their funeral. All around me were people crying, mourning, while I didn't particularly feel anything besides guilt. I felt guilty for not feeling anything, I mean I've met them before right? How could I be so emotionless? If I did cry it was not because I was sad but because I felt it to be wrong not to.

I always hated going to funerals because of that feeling of guilt id get... up until this one person's death, my grandfather. Before dying he was hospitalized and I never went to see him. When he died I did not cry, I couldn't believe it. Then we went to his funeral. I avoided going inside the room where he was up until my father forced me to say goodbye. Family spoke, and so did the pastor of my church. I ended up crying but not for long, it felt wrong to cry.

I didn't want to go up to his body but again my father forced me.
At first glance I panicked: Who was this? That man is not my grandfather. My grandfather is not purple, he does not have a cold looking face and hands as stiff as a rock. That man was not my grandfather. That man was just an empty body. Not the one who'd give me a kiss every time I went to see him. Not the one who'd buy us pizza at the flee market. He would have given me a hug upon glance.
That could not have been my grandfather, but it was and I still don't believe it.