Two weeks ago I watched someone die.

For real.

I watched as she gulped oxygen into her failing body.

I watched as the monitors in the hospital attached to her recorded her falling heart rate.

I watched as her grown children held her hand, stroked her hair and comforted themselves as much as her.

I watched as she took in her final breath of air.

And then I didn't cry. I wanted to, but I held it back, I didn't feel like I even had the right to grieve at that time.

I didn't cry at the funeral either. I haven't had time. And now that I do, I can't.