On Sundays, a child's world is filled with laughter, cousins racing in the courtyard, homemade treats, and the comforting presence of a beloved grandfather confined to his bed. Gatherings bring neighbors, relatives, and stories that briefly chase away the shadows of illness. But one cold afternoon, everything changes forever. Through the innocent eyes of a child, witness the quiet unraveling of family traditions, the heavy silence that replaces merry chatter, and the first raw encounter with death's finality. As incense fills the air and whispers turn to tears, the young narrator grapples with what it means when someone eternal becomes "the body," when Sundays lose their light, and when even the heavens seem to offer only distant promises. A tender short story about loss, fading memories and the cruel beauty of letting go. Inspired by the rhythms of life - perfect for readers who love emotional, character-driven tales of family and grief. What happens when childhood innocence meets the end of everything familiar? Dive in and let me know your views. (Content warnings: Themes of death, grief, mild cultural/ritual elements.)