I lost my grandmother two days ago after a long battle with a heart condition. I watched her go from a short plump little woman to a skeleton, a shell of herself. She and I were always very close, she's actually the person who named me as a baby and we spent more quality time together than I did with even my parents. I'm a mess. My brother and sisters don't want to talk about it, my husband tries but he doesn't understand, and my mother told me I needed to be alone with my grief because that's how she handles it. As someone with an already existing anxiety and depression problem, I don't feel like I should be alone with the grief; I feel like I need to talk and come to terms with it. And so I'm here.