grandparents died exactly 1 month apart

I know this is different. I know this group is for closer losses than grandparents. I should preface this by saying they helped raise me when I had an absent father and had a much bigger impact on my life than I even realized until they were gone.

My grandmother died May 27th, my grandfather June 27th. In the six or so months before her death, my grandmother's health deteriorated rapidly, with back to back shoulder replacements worsening it. My grandfather, a veteran and a drinker who'd lost most of his immediate family post covid, knew it was coming and many of my family think he was trying to die first. We enabled his alcoholism because there was nothing else to do. My mother and step father took care of them until they were gone.

I don't know what I'm trying to say here. Every time I try to bring up the loss, I'm reminded that they're in a better place. They're home. They're with family and friends and god. Remember the good times, remember you'll always have them. They're in your heart.

Every time I hear those words or any variation of it, I feel defeated. I feel unheard. No, it is not okay. Every good memory comes with a wave of loss I can't even comprehend before it's time to do the next thing. To move on. How the fuck do I move on? How do I just pretend everything is fine? Yeah yeah, we don't, we live with it, it never leaves us. Why is everyone pretending that having a brain eating parasite is okay? Sometimes I try to speak to my mother about my pain but every time, I remember that those were HER parents. Her mother, her father. And how can I compare my pain to that? How can I feel so burdened by my grief when she's the one handling it all?

Like I said I really don't know where I was going with this. I'm at work, in the bathroom, wiping away these godforsaken tears writing a message to strangers. God.