my grandfather passed away two days ago. his body was buried yesterday. i'm sure the right thing to say now is not "dear-God-why-did-he-leave-me" but "may-his-soul-rest-in-peace".

grief goes through many stages. denial, sadness, regret, anger, acceptance, etc- i don't know which stage i'm in.

i'm having so many regrets. so many, many regrets. everytime i think of each and every one of them i cry so hard, i can't breathe, and my head and heart feel heavy. i think i'm mostly crying for myself, rather than atuk. then, when i think about his house, his carpeted floors, his room, his whiteboard, his pens, his bed- i feel- i don't know. like he's there, but isn't there. like he's still in the hospital somewhere.

then when i think about his laughter, i feel so angry that it's taken away from me. that his death, and everything around it, namely, my mother's sorrow, is hurting me.

i hate this. i hate the fact that he died. mostly i hate the fact that there were so many things i could have done when he was alive...but i only started thinking about those things when he's gone.