Over the past year and a half, I have attended 4 funerals. That may not seem like a lot, but it has taken a great toll on my mental health. These 4 funerals (6 deaths) have opened eyes to grief in a new fashion, but also made me see societies view on death and grief. Specifically, last February I lost very close friend and for the family's sake I won't be naming him. This past January I lost my dear grandfather. As I experienced these two deaths, I saw how differently people treated me during both. When my friend died, I was asked "How close were you really to him?". I was expected to get over it quicker, because 'it's just a friend not a family member'. I struggled with this for months, because it wasn't just a friend.

He was one of my best friends. Every break-up I had he was there telling me he would take me on a date because I deserved to feel loved. I laid next to him during sleep overs when I had nightmares. When I went back to church and started my mission work, he was my one of my biggest supporters despite not being religious. I was close to this person for almost a decade and expected my kids to love him. Every memory and moment have hurt to write about. As I do, tears are streaming down my face, because even after a year I miss him so much. The week he died; this was my week:

• Sunday, my boyfriend and I broke up.
• Monday, my car died.
• Tuesday, my friend died, and I found out while in my first therapy session.
• Wednesday (Valentine's Day), I went to see my grandparents, and my grandfather asked me for the first time who I was.
• Thursday, I cried 4 times at work.
• Friday, I stayed overnight with students from the church as their chaperone while they attended a conference.
• Saturday, I dropped those students off with other adults at the conference and attended my friend's funeral.

When my grandfather passed, we had an idea it was coming. He had forgotten me almost a year prior due to his dementia. He would talk to me about how great his granddaughter was named Summer, how she was becoming a teacher and how much he loved her. When he stopped talking to me because he didn't know who I was, I would take my dog to see him because he loved dogs no matter the mental state. When he died, everyone kept saying how sorry they were, and I was given time off work.

I loved my grandfather; he was kind and loving. He made me smile, even days before he died. He couldn't talk but kept smiling at me in the hospital.

My friend was obnoxious and a huge football fan. He was protective of me, even when I didn't protect myself.

What I'm trying to say in all this, even though it was 'just a friend' that died, I'm still devastated. He never got to meet my boyfriend, he won't meet my kids, and he was taken too soon. Even if he's 'just a friend', without him I wouldn't be the woman I am. Just because someone isn't family doesn't mean they can't change your life and impact it.

We knew my grandfather was going downhill. We had prepared for it the best we could, and when the funeral came, we came together the best we were able. I saw family I hadn't seen in years and continue to reconnect with them. I am still grieving him and miss him dearly. Recently my dad found an old journal I used to draw in as he helped clean out the home, I couldn't help but laugh. Why would he keep something so silly? He loved me with all his might.

So, when your friend or family member is grieving, it really doesn't matter who or why. It just matters that you love them with all your might. Continue to impact their life.