When Grandpa died

This comes in light of the developmental psychology paper that I have just passed. I read in the textbook yesterday that widowhood can be one of the most horrifying and crippling experiences.So, I was reminiscing about my maternal grandpa's death. I have no memory whatsoever of any pain associated with it though I knew him for more than ten years. All I remember is weird cut up fragments like me skating at home and my mum telling me that he is dead, the next day my grandma and hundred other people sitting quietly in white clothes making a spectacle of something sad, my mum weeping at every instance his name was mentioned. In fact, I made a heroic deal out of his death at school and felt some pleasure out of being in some special experience. This is all. Then, dispassionately I shifted my gaze to grandma wondering how she must be feeling at the time of his death. How ever could she let him go? How could she even see him breathe his last and shrink to four feet of body just like that? I probably would cut my own nerves and die with him. That got me to think what would I do if i were so deeply in love. Probably I would fall sick everytime my partner fell sick and be ready enough to die the moment I felt the other one is gonna die. I just cannot imagine death, bereavement and then as my textbook says:
First disbelief, then preoccupation with mental images of the dead loved one and then final resolution back to reality

Death and experiences of dead ones are not a drug that I can return after a trip. Is everybody so persistent on remembering dead ones or disbelieving the truth? My mum goes helping the needy in his memory but what does she really feel about the person she has lost? What am I, a super glue attached person or does everyone feel remorse on death so much?