The day we laid my grandfather to rest felt heavier than the gray sky hanging above us.
Relatives gathered in small groups, speaking softly, while memories seemed to linger in every corner. I kept watching my grandmother, expecting to see the same sorrow in her eyes that weighed on my own heart. But instead, she stood upright—calm, composed, even wearing a faint smile. It unsettled me. How could she remain so steady after losing the man she had spent her life with?
When the ceremony ended and people began to leave, I finally walked over to her. “Grandma,” I asked quietly, “aren’t you sad?”
