The Grandmother is passed away now. She fell asleep leaning her head on a chair. Her breath became quiet, and her face was full of happiness and peace. It seemed as if a ray of sunlight was shining on her face.

In a black casket, and in a white cloth, she was closing her eyes, but her wrinkles were gone so that she looked much younger. Her hair was shining, and she was smiling peacefully. The hymnbook with the dry rose was put beside her head. Then, she was buried.

People planted a rose tree on her grave next to the fence of a church. Moonlight was shining on the grandmother's grave. She was not in her grave. However, the dead people know much more than the living. They know that if they suddenly come up in front of us, we should be very terrified.

   Dead people live a better life than we do. That's why they never come back. The leaves of the hymnbook, and the rose all returned to dust with her old memories. But the new roses come to bloom every year on her grave, nightingales sing beautiful songs, and an organ plays beautiful tunes.