Dead and Gone

It's been a rough week.

My uncle died Sunday night (10/3). I've been so busy with work and school that I haven't really had a chance to process it, and I won't even be able to go to the funeral because I can't afford to miss any of my classes. I feel bad that I won't be able to go, but I only recently reconnected with him, so we weren't that close. I feel bad that I'm making school my priority, and not my family. I know my mom could use me right now.

I'm going to admit something here that I've only admitted to one other person: I think I don't deal with death very well. This is now the fourth family member whose died in recent years: My grandpa in 8th grade, my uncle on my dad's side a few weeks later, my grandma senior year, and my uncle this week. I haven't really cried for any of them, save my grandma. I think it might be because I didn't really know them too well, but I still feel like I should have stronger reactions.

I sat at the funeral of my grandpa silently, with maybe a few tears coming out. I'm not sure if I cried for my Uncle Robert a few weeks after. And I cried for my grandma, who I knew the best out of all of them. I think a part of that, though, was because of my mother's reaction. It was horrible and I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it.

These people are family, and I can't muster up any tears for them. Yes, I feel sad, but the feeling passes fairly quickly. I was more upset over Dave dumping me than I've been for any of them dying combined. Hell, I think I've cried over movie characters more than I have over any family members, and I feel like that's just not right.

I feel like a horrible person for not mourning for many of my family members, and mourning over fictionalized events instead. And even worse because my Uncle Bryant was 47, and died of a stroke. After about an hour I started to worry about my mother, who is older than him, but still from the same side of the family. She's already had an unexplained heart attack, so something like this could potentially happen to her too.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to imagine how I'd feel if my mother died. I'm scared that I'll have the same reaction to her death, or my father's, or my brother's, as I did with my grandma. I'm scared that I could have a stronger reaction to one of my friends' deaths than theirs. That's not supposed to happen.

The thought also came up that maybe I'm just good at dealing with death. I don't let it consume me or my mind. I don't wallow, I don't wonder what if. Maybe I'm not afraid of death, and that's why I don't get so choked up over it. Maybe I've taken Dumbledore's (and J.K. Rowling's) words to heart: To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Or maybe I just can't spare any emotions for people who have gone on.