Special: Death is just another way

Gravestone. A stupid and insignificant headstone could not cover the true value of a person. Nor think it would hold up the lightheartedness and smiles of one's family members on one's lips.

It took time, perhaps not even an entire lifetime to understand the real meaning of: learning to live; what will seem stranger was that it took little or more to understand the meaning of death.

Only then, did you realize how much the existence of the very person you had loved as a child, hated as a teenager and etched into your own skin as an adult mattered.

I blinked and knelt on the dry weeds that characterized the bleak air of the cemetery, despite the clear weather. I arranged the bouquet of flowers in the small vase that I filled with water to keep them cool, cleaning the inscription etched on the cement board from specks of soil.