I remember when they put me in my grave and poured dirt on me. I blinked a few times, just like when I was alive, but suddenly I found myself a little further away from those who had come to bury me. I could hear their conversation. "Where are we going for the holiday tomorrow...?", "I haven't seen you for a long time. It's good that I came here today", "My car broke down, I'll take it to the repair shop tomorrow" & ... Not even their thoughts and conversations were about me! I was a good person in life, but everyone who dies is forgotten very quickly. In less than a blink of an eye ... There are only a few people who review our memories and remember us when we die. Like a mother who, even after her child dies, knits a scarf and throws it on her grave so that her child doesn't catch a cold. -digital hand drawing-