Once again. A travels end. Destination reached. What is it to die?

Dear grandmother.

I do not feel scared. Everything is exactly as it should be. According the book. We are born. We will die. Everything in between is a story we write ourselves. And It feels. Yes. See father. Stacks towards the coffin. Sorrow. Fear. Mother. Gone. Where? Tears. To cry. For grandmother. For dad. For sisters. All cry for grandmother. Without you. We had never been here. Loved grandma. We will meet again.


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