It's always all at once

I was just with my grandmother.

I have full reason to believe she's going to die today, or sometime early tomorrow morning.

I'm sitting here complacently writing this and I'm more concerned with why I still cannot cry.

My grandma was sitting down and suffered a head injury getting up and knocking against a cabinet. I witnessed her bleed for what felt like long enough for every drop to vacate her body. I managed to grab gauze and a rag and call my mother who whisked her away to a hospital where she is currently.

Blood. My grandmothers blood. It was a scene to take in, it was too much to see. Why me right now, I don't need these, I don't need all of these things all at once. I helped her but I could have helped more. Should she die I'll always wonder if I had acted sooner maybe she would have been fine, should I have done something more useful than what I did maybe I could have still had my grandmother in a weeks time.

She was 71. I spent many weekends at her South El Monte home, I spend every Thanksgiving and Christmas there, every Easter and every Fourth of July. It's the nexus for holidays and family times within my household, and now that she won't be around anymore I'm certain my grandfather will quickly pass on as well and develop problems long before his true time. It's going to be an empty home, made only emptier because the memories will be too powerful for the rest of the family to want to visit anymore.

Why can they cry. Why right now can they feel. I want to miss her. I want to mourn her premature passing, I want to feel everything I'm not right now. I know I'm not alone, but I wish I had somebody. Some day I'll either have a girlfriend or a therapist, and whichever finds their way into my life first is going to have to unravel my brain to make me okay, because there's so much I don't understand about myself right now that it will take somebody who truly cares to dig into the mysterious void and make things right.

My fucking grandma is bleeding in a hospital right now. It's so immense. I fucked it up for everyone else, I directly had a part in her dying, and effectively killed her, am killing my grandfather now, my father should suffer some sort of heart attack I'm certain (the man takes 4 kinds of heart medications due to a 40% reduced blood flow because of incredibly unhealthy levels of cholesteral and blood pressure) and no doubt my own mom will be stirred by her mothers passing.

And here I am, smacking on a keyboard telling five people who maybe sort of care about all of this. Why am I not stirred by all of this, it's really bothering me. I'm like a James Bond martini, shaken but not stirred and this is not how things are meant to be.

Not for me, nobody deserves all of this at once, but me?

To quote a very wise woman, "Fuck Everything"