My roommate's grandfather had a stroke today. He went to the hospital to visit, though he already knew that he was doing ok from phone calls from his father. His wife is really concerned as well.

I don't get it. I've never really felt that way about someone.

18 months ago my grandfather passed away. I went to the hospital and stared at his dead body for a good 45 minutes before the funeral home got there. I didn't cry. My grandmother cried a lot, but I didn't. My uncle cried a lot, but I didn't. My father was as stoic as ever. So was I, for once. But I didn't cry. I didn't really feel anything.

At the funeral I cried. I was a pallbearer. What did me in was when I said goodbye. And it wasn't really that I was sad, but I was caught up in the moment. It was like a movie, and I cry all the time at movies. I don't miss him. He was sort of an asshole.

This summer my uncle died. My mother called and told me and I felt relieve. I didn't really care that he died either. I felt bad for my grandmother and father for losing two close family members back to back, but I remember driving home for the funeral in good spirits. My little brother was out of the country at the time and when he heard he burst into tears. Funny, really.

So I don't understand this concern for his grandfather. I mean, I don't think he shouldn't be concerned or whatever, but the feeling is foreign to me.

I wonder how I'll react when my own immediate family start to die. If things go according to plan and I'm living away from them, not seeing them for years at a time, I think I'll probably take it the same as my grandfather and my uncle. In a way I'm anticipating that day just so I can see how I'll react.