When I was in fourth grade, I experienced the loss of a relative for the first time (or at let the first one I remember). I was 9 years old. (Note: as I’m thinking about it…it might’ve been second grade…my memory from that far back has long-since faded with that level of detail.)My parents drove us to my grandma’s apartment one night. It was odd, but I didn’t think much about it. I mean, we were just going to Grandma’s. I had no reason to think it was anything other than a normal dinner with Grandma. We arrived and the feeling in the air was something I didn’t know how…