Your grandad died when you were 12. It was the summer holiday, and surprisingly you do remember the sun.
You learned to keep your pain to yourself when you were told not to cry.
You were asked why you were so upset.
You thought the reason was pretty clear.
You asked why he had to die, and were told it was his time. And so you realised we all must have a time that is ours; a time that takes away time; a greedy time that devours itself, that shadows the time we have.
And in that shadow we must live.
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