• On that Sunday that terrible Sunday morning.
    My whole world fell to pieces, like fallen glass on the floor.
    A bullet in my heart, a wound that will never heal.
    I lost a friend, a teacher, my grandmother.
    The hands of death snatched her.
    Took her so suddenly.
    She would sleep that Saturday night and not wake that Sunday morning.
    Just like that she was gone.
    How could someone I’m so close to and love so much be gone just like that?
    The hands of death took her from me.