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Immortality Is Real
I wanted to hear the scratching and clawing from underneath us. I envisioned my grandmother's hand breaking through her coffin. But nothing happened. We returned home with nothing to show for our grave digging expedition, but dirty kneecaps and tear-stained cheeks. Why else would my grandmother have taken such awful pictures of my granddad's nightmares? She was trying to tell us something. Immortality is real.