The Weeping Willow

My grandfather died December of 2006, this happened to be the first time I was ever exposed to death.  Although I was a very young physically and mentally, I understood the events taking place at the time.  My grandfather’s death stirred a lot of internal conflicts that I never really thought about or even had.

When my family and I were at the funeral, I felt weird being there because I didn’t feel anything.  I wasn’t numb nor was I blocking the pain out. A slight indifference and feelings as vacant as a parking lot filled my insides.  During the actual burial, I looked at the people who were surrounding me and I could see a wave of sadness circle me.  I tried to force tears, I tried to feel sad, I tried to feel something.  Unfortunately I had no acting skills so my feels of indifference stuck with me throughout the whole funeral of my grandfather.

Not once after the funeral and even now did I ever feel bad for my lack of compassion.  I felt wounded with self pity, my mind full of melancholy.

I think about my grandfathers death all the time as too my mother for the fact that he was her father.  However, our thoughts about him differ greatly.  His lack of presence still shocks my motherto this day because it was a very sudden death to her, he was always there for her in the way a father should be for their daughter in a time of need.  

      His death for me stirred anger.  I felt this way because my grandfather and I didn’t have a connection.  I love him him because he is family and we talked once in a while. but reality was is that we didn’t know each other.  We had no real memories with each other and that’s something I wish that I had to cherish.