Sometimes the hard part about growing up is that it can be fast. People always tell my peers and I to “enjoy being kids!”, but in reality most of us don’t remember what that was like. The first time I dealt with death in my life was before I could even comprehend the meaning of death. I was a mere child when my grandfather passed away from melanoma. I never got to meet him personally, but my family reminded me of his glistening character that lit up every room he walked into. I saw his death as unfortunate, but not something that truly affected me. What hurts me deep is those who really knew him and their wounds, how the pain would feel like…



Writer out of the Bay Area, CA.

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