Nadia
The sky cried on the day my grandmother was buried.
The storm hung over us, heavy with gray clouds pouring down thick drops. As if nature itself mourned her death.
She had always been the kind of woman who filled any space, even in silence. Her sharp gaze spoke for her. And now her absence showed how strange it would be not to have her with us anymore.
I lowered my face to avoid the looks of the acquaintances who had come to say goodbye to her one last time. Their condolences were empty words passing through my ears like air. Nothing they said would change the fact that she was in there, cold, silent. Gone.
"Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your grandmother, Nadia?" my father asked me minutes before they lifted the coffin to bury it.
"I... I can’t look at her."
"You’ll regre
