The valuable mahogany casket was concealed with a mixture of brown boulders, decomposing

creatures, and weeds. Although it was my responsibility to use the shovel, I felt a deep sense of
humiliation that prevented me from fulfilling my duty of bidding her farewell in a suitable manner. I
declined to soil her. I adamantly resisted relinquishing my grip on my grandma, acknowledging an
unexpected demise, and acknowledging that an ailment could not only disrupt, but also snatch away a
cherished existence.

At the age of twelve, I had a surge of anger towards myself when my parents disclosed that my
grandmother had been engaged in a struggle against liver cancer. They had desired to shield me, a mere
six-year-old at the time, from the intricate and somber notion of mortality. Nevertheless, when the
inevitable conclusion approached, my focus was not on grasping the concept of mortality, but rather on
comprehending how I had managed to forsake my ailing grandmother in order to engage in leisure
activities with friends and indulge in television. Feeling hurt by the deception of my parents and
resentful of my own ignorance, I made a strong commitment to ensure that such blindness does not
happen again.