When I was 13 my father and I found my grandfathers dead body. He had died from a heart attack in his garden. He looked peaceful, surrounded by the vegetables he had dropped when he fell. And there’s something so visceral about seeing a body with a soul no longer in it. Seeing that body and slowly processing that grandpa’s gone, there’s just meat and bones left over. It changes you. It makes you see life differently and it takes time to process that, because you’re in shock from seeing a body, a loved one’s body at that. And idk I’m not a wordsmith usually but that just… changes you.
They. They forgor
