I lost my grandfather today. I don't know exactly when he died. I just know they called a priest yesterday and I just kept on believing he wouldn't leave.

I had a long day. Between urges to break down and crumble, I was looking forward to going home. I didn't know I was going home to this.

I'm in denial. I don't believe it. I won't believe it unless I see him. But I don't want to see him. Not in a coffin. Not all dressed up in white. Not in the midst of mourning people. Not even in my dreams saying goodbye. I don't want to believe it. 

I've stopped crying. I want to cry it all out tonight because I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll burst out crying at random intervals during the day. I don't want to cry in front of anyone. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I don't want to do anything. I don't know how to feel. I don't know. I don't. 

I don't know how to deal with loss. When will it sink in? I have never felt close to him. We've never had a meaningful conversation. I have never looked him in the eye. I never visited him in the hospital. I didn't want to see the struggle. He's gone. They say it's for the best. He's at rest now. But he's gone. I don't know how to deal with the fact that I'll never see him ever again once they close the casket and throw him down there 6 feet below the living. 

I don't know how my cousins took the news.I don't know how my uncles and aunts took the news. I don't know how my mom took the news. I don't know how my grandmother took the news. Who will she go home to, now?  I don't want to see them with bloodshot eyes, trying to be "strong". 

I don't. I don't. I don't.