Since I was a child, I was attached to my grandmother the most. I spent most of my time with her. I remember coming home after school and sitting in her lap to tell her how my day went. Our appearance was also somewhat alike. As a child, I would wonder what would happen if one day she died. I would be all alone because I don’t share the same bond with my parents. All these feelings of loss, grief, and fear used to scare me. The thought alone made me cry for hours.
But then one day, when I was only 14, she left me.
I got a call from my parents, who were in hospital, that she’s no more. I was literally shivering. I felt empty. I didn’t cry or feel sad. I expected to feel so much and so the emotional numbness was especially disturbing.
I refused to see her on the day of the funeral because I didn’t want to picture her lying there lifeless. It was like I got on the roller coaster, and as it climbs, falls, twists, and turns, I realize that I felt nothing. Around me, everyone else seemed to respond how I imagined I would: they’re crying; they’re letting it all out and encouraging me to let it all out. I know I was sad about the death, but for some reason, I wasn’t responding to it how they were. I felt different in my grieving. I wasn’t crying.
All I was doing was questioning my love for her.
