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Flowers on the Counter
It's late at night and I'd been rumaging around in the pantry looking for something to feed my pet rats when I saw a vase full of flowers on the counter and I realized that they'd been there for a while and I was wobdering why because they seemed out of place but then I placed them.

They were the same flowers that had been at my great grandmother's bedside last time I'd seen her in the hospital.

She died a few days ago . . . to be honest, I hadn't given any thought to where the flowers we'd brought her would go. They didn't look right on my counter, those dying flowers for a dead person.

On the day she died I had just gotten home from school when my great uncle stopped me. In a hoarse tone he broke the news . . . he said she was "no longer suffering" and of course he meant she was in heaven.

I had talked to him about cryonics towards the end. I hadn't expected anything to come of it, and nothing had.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to feel. Well, I knew what I was supposed to feel: overwhelming grief. Instead I walked upstairs to put my things away.

I didn't know her very well. I met her in a nursing home, and we didn't talk much. Once, though, I asked her what her favorite age was to be. I was feeling kind of guilty for knowing nothing about her, and I was also wondering if maybe I could find a shortcut to some manner of perspective.

When she was in her late teens she used to rollerblade on the roofs of buildings with her friends. I asked if that wasn't dangerous and she said that they stayed away from the edges. They weren't stupid, I was admonished.

How sad, I thought, for a life to peak so early, and I resolved that my life would keep getting better forever.

Another time she discovered that neither I nor my sibling knew how to play poker. This, she thought, was a serious gap in our education. We gambled for tic tacs, though I've already forgotten to play.

I bury my face in the flowers on my counter. They smelled . . . like flowers. Not edible, so my nose was wondering what the point of the exercise even was. I pull my head out.

Here's to my great grandmother. When she was a little older than me she skated on rooftops and it was the most fun she ever had. She taught me how to play poker if briefly. And for nearly a century she was a human being that loved and was loved.

They burned her brain to ashes and put it in a jar.

Here's to my grandmother.
I came up with a very clever signature, as a matter of fact it's cleveritude was so clever that merely listening it would cause you to ascend to godhood. But then I forgot it, so instead you can listen to my gibbering inanities. I'm sorry.
That was a beautiful tribute, Yordle. My condolences.
Sorry for your loss. Interesting woman.
Not knowing the place, I set out for the land of my dreams.
Having arrived at the land of my dreams, I found I did not know the place.
ohhh that is so beautiful)
I think that buying essay is the easy way to increase your marks)

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