به آهستگی..

My family- always the portrait of wise resignation- bears the news as it always has: calmly and with the attention to the most minute details. They calmly face time me an try to cut out their black clothes. They successfully pretend that everything is normal and repeat the word "salamati" when I ask what's up. And yet when I do confront my mom that I already know about my drandpa's death, she sighs, holds back a tear and says " it is quite natural for children to bury their parents. "