I don't know

I was by your side when you breathed your last. I watched as the final breath left your body, and the room and the world‌ fell utterly silent. I kissed your head and your hands, and then, with those very hands that had once held mine, I grasped your shroud and lifted you up. In that moment, I realized that when people die, they don’t simply leave the world; they extinguish parts of the universe along with them. Grandma, the sun still rises since you left, but nothing is quite as bright as it used to be.