I'm not sure how to say this. My paternal grandmother, who've I've known since I was a little girl passed away Monday morning. One day she was there, the next she was not.

I loved my grandmother very much. She was always there for me since as long as I can remember. I lasted visited her on Sunday, the day before she died. She was bedridden at the time, catatonic even. Before that, I visited her over Thanksgiving break. She was still bedridden, but she could still talk, and she was awake. Who would have thought that that would be the last time I would talk to her--that Sunday would be the last time I would ever see her?

My grandmother was sick for a very long time--these past few months, she seemed to be getting worse and worse, but every time I saw, she would seem fine. Coughing, unable to walk, and sleeping a lot, but fine. I never thought she would die so soon, She hadn't even reached ninety.

When my dad broke the news to me, I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. I cried until I had no more tears, and then I cried some more. I couldn't believe she was gone. I still can't. Every time I think about even visiting, I get this stab of pain in my heart. I think about the times she would feed me snacks and cookies--and I realize she will never do that again. I can't hold her hands anymore, I won't receive anymore presents from her. I won't even hear her voice anymore.

Tomorrow is her funeral and I don't know how to feel. It's the last goodbye I'll ever give her, and this time, it is permanent. I don't know if I will end up crying like when I first heard the news, or if I will just stand there while others do. I haven't cried at all since that day. I don't know if I am processing her death properly. On Monday, I was crying tears; on Wednesday and Thursday, I started smiling again. Today, I laughed at some funny videos. My grandmother is dead, and for some reason, I feel like I'm not grieving properly. I feel wrong for smiling, feeling happy, especially when I will be leaving my grandma behind forever. I resent my father somewhat for doing the same   thing, for telling me to "calm down" when I was crying, for sending me off to school after telling me--especially since he is her son and she was his mother.

I have made many graveyard visits and I have attended many funerals. But I never felt connected to many of them even though many were family and friends. The funeral that I remember most vividly was my paternal grandfather, and he died when I was still a child. I don't have many memories of him except one. I don't even remember what he looks like unless I look at family photos--he looks like what my dad will probably look when he gets older. At his funeral, I remember looking down at his face, watching his coffin get lowered down. Then I tossed at blue flower before he was buried.

I'm afraid of what will happen tomorrow. I'm afraid that I will feel nothing when I see the procession, when the coffin will be buried, when I say goodbye to my grandma one last time. I'm afraid I won't remember years later.

There are five stages of death: grief, denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance.

I have already faced grief and denial.

I'm afraid of reaching the others.