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To Mourn or Not to Mourn December 11, 1996 was the most dreadful day of my life, it was the day my great grandmother died. It started off like any normal day of the week. I got up, got ready and went to school. I was in the sixth grade. It was soon after I got to school that my mother came and picked me up. I thought to myself “I don’t have any kind of doctors appointments, so why is my mother getting me out of school early?” As my mother and I were traveling out of my classroom, she turned to me and said “Heather, G.G. died this morning.” Usually when a person dies, people cry, and for some reason I could not. Maybe I was in too much of a shock to cry; whatever it was I just could not. When my mother and I arrived at my grandmothers’ house, which is where my great grandmother had been staying, my aunts, uncles and cousins were there. It was hard; I did not know exactly what to think. I did not know how to react. She was always so loving and caring and put everyone else first. She was one of the most important people in my life. My great grandmother had a wonderful sense of humor, yet shockingly self-deprecating