The day my grandfather died I was a child, and my mother made me go into his room and kiss the hand of his dead body. I don’t have many memories of him, but I can recall every detail of his cold hand, the dark room, the anguish I felt. Two special persons have died in the last few days. Whenever I watched tv, read newspapers, or on social media, all I could see were their dead bodies. I am sure it was not against their will, yet I can’t avoid thinking of all children who are not still aware of the meaning of death, who can’t stop looking at those corpses, just like I did.
