I mean, literally, yesterday, I helped burying my grandpa’s soulless body in to his last worldly house; pouring down the brown soil that endorsed our lives, and our ancestors, since only God knows when, in to the grave.
My grandpa passed away Friday night, and yesterday, we held his funeral.
He’s 81 years old, some of the family member said. So old and sick in the past few months. I visited him a couple of days before when the family said that his health had dropped down badly. I remembered the last time I held his hand, and he smiled at me. I wondered if he still recognizes me. My mom kept telling him that I am his grandson, and he just nodded and smiled.Continue Reading
