SnappingSausage

My Grandfather died when I was young. According to my mom, I was too young to understand death, but what a seven year old knows might surprise you. I understood death then as much as I do now. When you die, you're no longer alive. No going back. Like a flower, you get picked and once picked, you only have so much time until a vase of water isn't enough and you wither away. Death was a common thing in my household. My mother took care of the elderly and came home countless times to share the news that another client had passed away. We used to have fish, which all died eventually. My dad's parents died when I was real young. Like, goo goo ga