A few days ago there was a death in my family. Actually, it was my grandmother. She died of colon cancer after I think it was about two years of going through chemotherapy to try and kill the cancer. But let me backtrack a bit and explain who my grandmother was in relation to me and my family and why her death should be hard on me.

My grandma was a great woman. I know people probably say this a lot, but I mean it so sincerely that I can't really put it into words. If there is a heaven, then she'll be the first person in the gate just ahead of mother Theresa (that stuck up bitch). She was Catholic, and very close to god and her religion, but despite this she still held a VERY open and liberal mind. Which still amazes me to this day. How she could live in the deep south, around so much ignorance and hatred for so long and still remain unaltered in her political beliefs and morality. I am using the word "hatred" loosely. Most natives around here are all just pretty ignorant and scared, sheep people. She helped any and everyone she possibly could, including an uncle and cousin who had strayed a little from the beaten path and got into some rotten shit. She was pretty much the root and foundation for our entire family, no one did anything without talking to her about it. My Grandmother helped raise me and my two brothers as well as most of my cousins.

And now I'm going to go into a little bit of background about myself. I'm a Merchant Seaman since 2006 and I've been gone about 70% of the time in between then and now. I've always been sort of weird when it comes to death in the family or anything of the sort. But I just thought that I didn't really feel anything or mourn because I didn't know the people that had passed. They were all either distant relatives I'd only met a few times or someone thats mind had been gone long before I was even aware of them.

After my grandmother had her first bout with cancer you couldn't really see a difference in her appearance other than wear and tiredness. And eventually the chemo worked and the doctors said it was all gone and she was good. Well, I left about six months ago and about halfway through my time at sea my mom told me my grandma's cancer was acting up again. I didn't have any alot of experience with cancer and I figured that they would just give her chemo again and that would be that, or maybe that I wouldn't see the effects of her cancer through physical appearance. So I didn't expect what I returned home to, but when I saw her, it scared the hell out me. My grandma had always been a pretty hefty, short, polish lady and she ALWAYS looked healthy. But when I saw her, it looked as if she had lost at least 60 lbs. Her skin sagged and looked Grey, like all of her color was gone. Her hair had lost its color too it used to be brilliantly blond and now it was dark. And lot of her hair had fallen out/thinned. It was easily one of the most frightening things I'd ever seen. I think it just hit me so hard because I hadn't seen her condition progress and I returned from what I imagined her to be to what she became, and it shocked me.

I don't know if I realized that she was going to die and just accepted it right then or what. But she had passed a week or two after I didn't feel anything.

I mean, if I had not gone to the hospital and heard about it over the phone or something, I guess that could be excusable. But I literally watched her die on a couch at her house with all of my family crying and screaming and I didn't feel a damn thing. I heard her gasping for air and moaning from the pain even after being given morphine, and I still didn't feel anything. I went to her viewing and saw her body, which the funeral home did a horrendous job to. They left her face and skin sagging so you could see her scull basically peeking through the flesh, her mouth in a drooping and open expression. It looked like they slapped some baby powder on her face and with some lipstick and that was it... STILL, I didn't feel anything... But a little pissed off that they disrespected my grandmother's body. I was even a paul bearer and led her casket, which was on wheels... what a fucking joke. I couldn't even carry my grandmothers casket

I had to WALK BESIDE IT IN A LINE AS SOME STUPID ASSHOLE FAGGOT SNOBBY FUNERAL DIRECTOR PUSHED IT LIKE IT WAS A FUCKING SHOPPING CART AND I DIDN'T FEEL ANYTHING! But again, pissed off.
 
 
So I'm sorry if I got a little graphic or whatever, but I just wanted to express what I've been going through as clearly as possible.

I'm pretty sure I SHOULD be sad and stuff but I'm not, I see her face and hear her voice in my head ever so often and I don't feel anything when I think I should. I don't know if thats just THE WAY I AM or if I've been gone so long and disconnected from REGULAR PEOPLE and FAMILY that I just can't feel the way I should or maybe I haven't mourned yet. Or maybe its my lack of faith that has lead me to JUST ACCEPT IT AND BAM! ITS OVER.

I know that people mourn differently and whatnot, but I doubt thats the problem. I've NEVER really mourned any death not even a dog or a cat that I've owned.

I remember owning a cat once that got some bacterial infection that ate a hole in its side and it was walking around my house with a gaping hole in its side (I was six) and my mom had to put it to sleep....nothing. I had another cat that my mom poisoned with bug spray (on accident) and the only reason I was upset about it was because they made me bury it.

I guess my question is WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME and do any of you go through the same thing?