Death

Death is the buried face

Death is the inability to sleep

Endless casseroles

Death is the cleaning out

Crying when you fold his shirts

They still smell like him

Death is the rose bush in the churchyard

and the lime tree

Death is recovering

Slowly but surely, helped by your friends

Death is comforting

By friends, family, relatives you didn't know you had

Death is love

Of the lost one

Of your family

Death is forever

This was written about my grandpa.  I was in seventh grade when I wrote it, so no haters, please.