Sitting with our Grief: Mental Health Matters

My grandfather died yesterday. He was quite elderly and was battling an aggressive case of cancer, so his death was not unexpected, but it is painful all the same. We had known the end was near for several days and every time my father called I had expected it to be with the sad news. As a consequence, I have found myself feeling as though my grief were already all poured out and that I'm drowning under the weight of my guilt for being so stopped up. It reminds me a bit of the emotional equivalent of when I had appendicitis and, after days of agony, finally crawled to my bathroom consumed with the thought that I would feel better if I could just vomit. I don't expect that vomiting would do me much good this time, but I can't help think that I would feel so much better if I could just have a good cry. 

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