When I was ten years old, my grandmother passed away.
The old lady had been laid up with palsy for several years.
She must have struggled desperately, shutting up in her fragile body, but she already appeared as a dead person. She was awaiting death without moving, like a whale that is waiting for death on the shore.
Before she died, she came to our house from the hospital with her paralyzed body because my father believed she hoped to die at home with the love and care of her family. Unfortunately, no one saw her death. She died suddenly before sunrise, just before the family entered her room for a good morning greeting.
I saw her just after she passed away. Just as big balloons run out of wind leaving only a hard rubber, she seemed like a hard shell without air.
The dug land was deep and dark and hollow like a wound after a sharp knife stabbing. Her coffin went down into the ground, and the earth embraced her coffin.