It felt like I was being stabbed in the heart continuously.  Seeing people look at you with sad eyes makes you feel like your something bad.  When your swollen eyes finally begin to realease tears they remind you of what actually happened.  Despair and loss filled my mind with hopeless thoughts of misery.  Death is an ugly, unfair thing.  Nothing happy can happen.  Death's unsatisfying smell filled my lungs as I would walk around the house.  Even though death smells like freshly cut flowers it somehow smells terrible, like something rotting inside you.  When I heard that my very sick Poppa had died on November 19, 2014 I thought I was going to die myself.  To this day I don't even know how I survived.  I realize everyone will deal with loss someday on their life but when your best friend dies something different happens.  Instead of sadness the feeling of guilt sets in.  Thoughts flew through my mind about how I wished I could have been the dead one and how I wish this never would happen. Even though the ten draining months that lead to his death, I still wished I was at his house helping his confused mind wrap around the thought of putting the lemon Oreo down and going to bed.  When we found out if was the last months we never thought that the cancer would have been that cruel.  The worst part of the whole thing wasn't touching his freezong cold skin at the viewing or putting the small wood box into the earth with his remnants but it was watching the 350 people watch me walk down the aisle at the funeral.  The church was full of crying people.  I never thought I would cry in front of that many people but I did.  Death and cancer changes a person.  Looking at Poppa's polished brown, leather boots and listening to the preacher seemed to make things even worse than they were.  Each word lasted longer than any other I had ever heard.  The long months of sleepless nights and an acheing heart had finally caught up to me.  Death began to soothe me.  When I sat in the church pew after the funeral while everyone was at the reception in the church gymnasium I held Poppa's knife in hands and finally realized death is a good thing but coated in bad.  We may not get to see our loved one ever again but that person is at peace and no longer in pain.  Now, the person lives forever in our heart and in our pictures we have of them, never leaving us, always protecting us.  When I left the church in my black dress with a neat bun and red lips I felt at peace and undisturbed.