my grandfather was diagnosed six months ago with cirrhosis of the liver. Previously to that he was diagnosed with hepatitis c. The doctors wanted to give him a transplant, so they say, but in reality there was neither a medical or philosophical reason to save his life. He was 70 years old, an alcohoic and a drug user. They weren't going to "waste" a liver on him because he'd probably shoot that one to hell. The doctors bullshitted my "grandmother" and the rest of the family for six months giving us good news one day and bad news the next. I appreciate the fact that they were trying to keep our hopes up, but my "grandmother" has been for almost 30 years. she saw the charts and told them repeatedly that she understood what was happening and not to lie to her about his condition but they continued regardless. The entire time he was sick everyone in the family broke down and cried at least once. Everyone except for me. I don't know why but i couldn''t bring myself to die. Even the day he died not a tear fell from my eye. My mother sobbed, my sister, my 2 year old cousin even started crying. I'm his grandson and i couldn't even muster a tear while nurses where crying almost as hard as my "grandmother". Of course i felt horrible, i was sad, i was upset but i couldn't cry. i guess i wanted to because everyone else did but i couldn't find it in me anywhere. No one thought his death affected me the way it actually did because i couldn't manifest for the world to see. And its not the first time i wasn't able to truthfully cry. I just could never do it. At the funeral i felt as though i was the only one who didn't cry. Everyone from the pastor to the ushers were in tears. But i couldn't. I felt and in a way still feel that maybe i didn't love him as much or care for him as much as everyone else. maybe i don't truly understand the concept of death or maybe i just need to be back on medication.