My nana died three weeks ago today. But this is not a pity column meant for cheap tears. I am interested in moving forward, not hanging back.

I've always felt that way, but grief obscured my judgment.

Like most people, I give my best advice to others. I'd have told anyone in my situation to try his or her best to go on living normally -- anyone but myself. I had to get that kickstart from someone else.

I got the news on a Thursday and went home immediately for the funeral. Sadness, sickness and fatigue kept me out of my Monday class.

I almost stayed in on Tuesday, too. I woke up early, and I wasn't feeling well for my first class at 9:45, or any other. Closer to bell time, I called the professor to explain my situation.

He told me to come to class anyway.

"It's something to do," he said. "I always said that if one of my sons died, I'd be sad about it the first day, but by the third day I'd be back at work."

What the hell can you say to that? I said I'd try to make it to class.

I did.

I dragged myself there, I went to my next class. And the next. And my evening shift at work. I'm glad I did.

I told friends about the conversation and responses ranged all the way up to cursing the professor. That's entirely wrong, of course.

He wasn't trying to say not to be sad about it on that third day. What he was saying was that life goes on. This advice doesn't just apply to a loss. Any setback in life, any tragedy, is a part of life, not a reason to run away from it.

My nana was a strong and practical woman. When she became ill, she was making arrangements for her estate and her hospice before most of us could even accept what was happening. She was immensely proud of me for going to college and wanted to see me succeed.

She wouldn't have wanted me to lay around moping. I wouldn't have wanted to, either; I just needed someone else to agree with me.

I'm a long way from dealing with all my grief, but avoiding my responsibilities is irrational and useless. She'd probably have scolded me for skipping class, in fact.

I'm a private person, and I get irritated at tearjerker personal columns where people in mourning suddenly become experts. I have enough bittersweet memories at my disposal to make me tear up, and maybe some readers, too.

But they are not part of this column. If you think this piece fails because it's not maudlin, you might be missing the point. I've avoided pausing my life and wallowing in my sadness to instead deal with it.

All I've said to that teacher before now is what I said at the end of class: a simple "thanks for getting me out of bed this morning." I'm no expert, but I'd recommend keeping it in mind.

Dustin Pangonis a senior majoring in journalism and is a senior film/TV reporter for The Daily Collegian. His e-mail address is dtp130@psu.edu.