About 5 years ago, my mom told me, her head hanging low, that my great grandpa Drees(Papa) passed away. "Oh" I said in a large sigh. Mom's eye's flooded with tears, and so did mine. "Where is he?" I mumbled sadly. "In his bed," she sighed wearily. The whole family circled his bed ready to say goodbye. Almost everyone was crying, some just standing and staring. I wasn't. I was to confused to cry. My great grandma was crying the hardest. The blue flowery blankets were wrinkled all around his body. I kissed him on the forehead. I jerked back feeling the coldness and berried my head in my mom's shoulder.
Days later, we arrived at the graveyard for his funeral. This time I was crying. I had made a picture for him. I set it in his coffin. "Here Papa," I whispered. "Hope you like it." A man with a small, silver horn played a song. I saw my great grandma Drees lay a bright red rose across the top of his coffin. Finally, they lowered the dark brown coffin into the earth. I stared down right into the dark hole. Then, all of a sudden, people started leaving. Some people crying, some people just walking. I stood there. Frowning. "It's okay." Mom reassured me. "Yeah" I mumbled. Now we visit him any chance we have.
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