I hope I made the right choice? When I lost my grandfather, there was a teenage boy in the village who wouldn't stop throwing himself on the ground and mourning so painfully. They said, when my grandpa was alive, the boy was quite close to him. Other mourners will try to hold him, but as soon as they let go, he will throw himself on the ground again and continue rolling and screaming at the top of his voice. He cried even more than my late grandpa's children.

After the burial we became friends.

I made him my friend, not because of anything but because I would like him to cry for me like that when I die.

That would make me a happy ghost.