It was, brenda. It's known colloquially in our family as "the year everybody died." It got to where we would all be nervous if someone was 10 minutes late to something, because we were sure they'd died. I think though, that because my grandmother was still alive, we were all more focused on her, and hurting for her. Even the cousins who were losing fathers throughout this, hurt for Nana, as much as they did for themselves. Nobody should have to bury one child, never mind half her children, in three in a half months. She died 3 years later, and it was a little easier to let her go, because nobody wanted her to lose anyone else. She was one of those special grandmothers everyone loves (as opposed to the mean or distant kind). I think for my mum and her remaining brother and sister, they didn't get to mourn their brothers, the way they needed to.
My aunt didn't know she was having a breakdown during all this, until she had a withdrawal from one of her meds. She decided she didn't need it any longer, and stopped it suddenly--I think it might have been Xanax. She then thought she was having an allergic reaction. She felt like things were crawling all over her. My uncle took her to her doctor, who realized she was in withdrawal. She never put the feeling together with the lack of meds, so she didn't even know. She went into the hospital for a couple of weeks, to deal, but was just frigging great about it. She'd call and make cracks about being locked up. She got a weekend pass, and took me shopping, bought me a coat, and told me to tell my friends that my crazy aunt bought it for me. My mother's family is extremely strong