Scattered Sorrow

I never suspected an afternoon after camp could have such terrible news.
"Granddad died this morning," Mom announced. And...
Time didn't slow down.
Nobody ran away.
Nobody burst into tears.
We just... put our backpacks away like usual. I heard my older sister laugh about something. Shouldn't we not laugh? I thought, shouldn't we mourn? But I knew that he would want us to keep laughing...
I've read to many books.
It's too soon, too strange.
...................................
I got good news later that day.
Maybe that's why I didn't cry.
I was so excited.
But it felt like I shouldn't be.
...................................
The next night, I cried.
It wasn't hard.
I rarely cry hard anymore. Just streams of silent tears, except for the few squeaks sometimes.
I don't remember crying any more than that.
It felt wrong.
But it's what happened.

A poem, a preview of what's to come

For this kind of guilt,
There are no words.
The kind that's built
Upon sorrow
And grief
And do I look for tomorrow?

One month later

My dog was sick.
Mom was bringing him to the vet, and she warned us the dog might have to be put down, so we all pet him.
It was the last time.
Something was wrong with his heart, and he had to be put down. I tried going to my room after I heard, but I ended up sitting with Mom instead.
And crying.
After a while, I went to read one of the books I'd got from my recent Barnes & Noble's trip.
I should have cried like this about Granddad.
I didn't see him often.
People come before animals, so I should have cried for him.
These are two different situations.
What am I supposed to think...
What am I supposed to feel...

Is this sorrow, or sadness?
Joy, or madness?
Hope, or happiness?
It's unclear
And I'd rather be
Anywhere but here
So find me,
Imagination
Take me somewhere
Without devastation
Take me to a world
Of excitement
Get this stuff hurled
Out of my mind, hint
At it
Just get it away
Hint or spit
It away

Nobody knows this, sometimes I still feel sad. I wrote something along those lines in my diary.
Then it was January 6th... maybe the 5th or 7th. Probably 6th. 2019.
Now it's January 2nd. 2020.
I should feel more sad for Granddad. Wait--am I the same amount of sad for both of them?
I saw my dog every day.
I saw Granddad once or twice a year.
I was conflicted.
What should I feel?

A mess of scattered emotions
Thrown on the floor
Like a messy room with old lotions
No order anywhere
But conflict is
Always there
A mess that's conflicting
Grief, joy, hope, despair
A desire to sing!
A desire to do nothing!
A desire to do who-knows-what!
A pile that conflicts everything
Scattered emotions, tossed and turned
Good and bad
Frozen and burned
They are everywhere
In me
Here and there
Rolling, waving, sweeping
A spinning vortex
There to suck me in, seeing
As it's a tornado
Of emotions and conflicts
Some high and low,
High and low,
High and low,
High
And
Low
High and low
Emotions and conflicts...
That are high and low.