Death visiting your life

I haven't experienced much death. The first funeral I went to was for a relative I barely knew. A cousin of my grandmother, I think. One of my friend's dad died. He was a good man and I cried as the service, though I don't know why. We hadn't ever had a conversation. Maybe I just felt bad for my friend. Ever since the man's death, he's gotten worse...

The first major death, if it can be called that, came earlier this year in April. My granny died during surgery. If she'd lasted a few more weeks, she'd have come to my graduation. The whole thing made me respect her, the life she had, the troubles she went through, and the way she did things. I realized that even though the way she told stories relaly frustrated me, I never got lost. They were good that way. The night service before the funeral was the first time I think I've ever seen my dad cry. It made me feel terrible. I just couldn't produce the same emotion. I didn't have the same tie. I didn't know her as well. It made me think I should've gotten to know her better. I learned more that night about her than I'd ever learned before. She was a strong woman, raising four children by herself. She looked out for others, making sure everyone was treated well and taken care of. She always spoke her mind and related experiences. She was one of the best people I've ever met, I never got to know her. The fact that my dad and other relatives could cry and I couldn't made me feel terrible. I'd lost someone important, but didn't know it. I really miss her. I really, really do.

Jam it back in, in the dark.