My grandfather passed away about two weeks ago. He is completely free from the pain and indignity brought upon by his body now, and like my sister said, 'don't be sad, he's gone to see grandma'. Its hard not to feel cut up. I hear blood seeping out of me sometimes, thinking of this permanent but inevitable loss. I have only really been able to write this down without choking. But this is all part of growing up, part of existence and experience. Life is only meaningful because there is death to end it.