Started a story

I remember my first understanding of grief. I remember being told my grandpa passed away. At 11 my understanding of that really didn’t make a lot of sense. Then I saw him in the coffin and people shovelling dirt onto him and I just wanted to scream for them to stop. The crunching of the pebbles felt so loud and it felt like my brain was going to explode. We got into the car to head back to the church. I didn’t want to cry but sobs wracked my body. He was gone. Forever. I’d never see his big smile. Calling me Joseph because of my colorfully striped jacket like joseph in the bible. I loved him so much. I thought that I’d never see him again.


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