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Death is such a strange matter. At one moment, you are standing there, laughing with your friends, and at another you are gone. No particular reason has to be attached to it. You are dead and that is the end of it. You will never speak and you will never go to work again. All of your possessions will be passed on to your family. They are the ones who are going to mourn you and cry for you. The nature of death and life is cruel for taking you away from them. Suddenly, you become the best of them. You were the kindest, the smartest and that is the way it should be. Your death will leave a void that can never be filled. Whatever the cause of death might be, it does not matter. It happened, and that is all that resonates in the hearts of those who remain to live. They feel robbed no matter what the case was. They are angry and in pain, unable to see beyond that.

Childhood ends when children become aware of their mortality. Everything after that is just trying to push that fact into the dark corners of the mind. Death is not to blame. It is inevitable and neutral. Yet, the existence of death is denied, until the moment when it finally comes. You think of death as of a mishap that happens to others, but not to you. You were not ready to die. There was so much more that you could have done. You were lively and opened to new experiences. Those who stay after you wish to have you for just a minute more. They do not accept that your time had run out. If only they spent more days with you, if only they were nicer and know how to appreciate your company. They should have been with you, instead of wasting time on meaningless distractions. Truly, without you, they are lost. They are alone. For them, it is the end of the line as much as it is for you. They are afraid to move on. Moving on would be disrespectful. It would mean they have forgotten you.

Actually, they will never forget you. They spend the rest of their days caught up in the memories of you, telling stories about you, remembering your face and your voice. When they stumble upon your old photos, a sudden, uncontrolled sob escapes them. Looking at how young you were, not a child, but not yet an adult, they will think about you now, with your closed eyes and pale, dry skin. In the photo, you were chubby, and you were sweet. And now you are none of that anymore. Your cheeks will not blush. Your lips will not curve into a smile. You left them in a bad place. The most painful moment is when your coffin is sealed. That is when they realize it is over.

In front of other people, they act as if they are alright. They have a tough time, but they are fine. Pretending that they understand how life works, they would never forgive themselves if they let go of you. They do not talk about it, because that would ruin the day for others. But, when they go back home in the evening, when they are by themselves, all the feelings flood in. Those are the moments when they can break down the constraints. It is because they know it. Night is near. Night is for the restless. Night is for the tears.

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