I finally realized that my grandmother was truly dead.
Her usually flamboyantly flushed red cheeks were colorless and pale.
The embalmer must have sewn her lips together tightly. She looked like she was pressing them together in a smirkish frown, hiding a secret that today I still wish she could have told me.
I wondered what she would feel like.
I had heard that dead bodies are cold, but I could never imagine such a warm, loving woman to be cold.
I wanted to cry, but no tears came.