The Ways We Grieve

I'm one of those people who aren't good with death. When my dad died when I was in my twenties, I didn't really cry. I hurt all over, but I couldn't cry. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me, after all, my mom was crying enough for both of us. At the funeral, it was even worse because I felt like laughing. I didn't, I wouldn't let myself. Later, when I talked to my wife about it, she told me it was probably me trying to deal with my grief. She was probably right, but it took me a few more years to finally cry over the loss of my father. He really was a good man.