Mourning is a strange thing

I keep on thinking to myself: You're sure she's not just sleeping? You're sure she's not just in the hospital? Are you sure? Are you sure you're sure? But you saw what you saw and that was that coffin going into the ground with her body in it and everyone threw roses and carnations into the grave five feet under ground...
It really hasn't sunk in, has it? I'm going on with my life, and I think about you more than I have in the past couple years- because I took you for granted. I always thought you would live to see all your grandchildren get into their 30s. I always thought you'd be there to watch me get married; to fix my wedding gown; to watch ME...us... live our lives. To be there to babysit your great-grand-kids like you babysat your grandkids...me. My brother. My cousins. I can't help but think about all the things you did for me; like the things I said in the last entry. Teaching me little bits of Tagalog. Helping me with my homework...cooking...cleaning...for us.
It was so weird going into your room to see your daughters and your husband going through your things after the burial. And I got one of those things...and you know I wouldn't use what you gave me, but you gave it to me anyway, like you saw something in me that made you think I would use it one day. Maybe I will....like for my wedding, they said. It was so weird going into your room without you in there. You weren't in there. I felt like it was cooler in that room than the rest. Was it because the window was open, or was it something else? Were you there when I got the chair from your room? I felt something strange- I felt...uncomfortable, like I sensed something from somewhere else. I wonder if you're watching me type this; watching my eyes well up with tears that I push back so I can keep typing...so no one could catch me crying because I'm thinking of you.
That whole week... from the day that you died and the day you were buried... it went by so slowly, even though everything was happening like that *snaps.* Everything just went by so quickly too. Everyone came and went in a hurry because they had work or school. They don't really have any time to mourn for you, do they? Do I even have any time? Well... I guess- I'm not really doing anything but typing this and thinking about the first person that died who was close to me. Did you really talk about me a lot? Was I the unsaid favorite? Pppffff... All I know is: I'll wear the things you gave me when you were alive in memorandum of you...because you're gone and I can't believe it. Not for a second. Yet I watched you go into the ground in a casket. I saw  your body all stiff with your eyes closed...and Mom made me take a picture. But why? Because that was her Mom. Should I count myself lucky that I still have her to do all these things for me? Or should I count myself unlucky that I watched you get better then suffer for the past couple months? I wasn't even around you that much though... I wish I was around you more, especially then. The last time I saw you, you were indeed in your bed sleeping and I didn't say goodbye because I didn't want to wake you up. I should have whispered goodbye in your ear...but I didn't know that that was the last time I would ever see you alive.


I wish I said something for you at the viewing, but I couldn't do it... I'm sorry...

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