One day my beloved father died, and for an entire month, I cried.
While I was busy mourning him, my family felt I deserted them.
I would let no one console me, ignoring all the things they told me.
Grandmother, a wise old head, finally said, "There is something I'd like to know."
"How can the deceased find release if we refuse to let them go?"
All who have died remain alive, In the memory of our creator.
Many of them you never knew, so whose memory do you think is greater?
Our God is greater than anyone ever elected,
He has promised many now dead, may one day be resurrected.
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