Yesterday my great uncle died from covid 19. My last memory of him it's from a week ago, I was sleepy and very tired: He came to my room and thought that i was crying 'cause I was murmuring some words while dreaming, so he called my mom and then they started laugh 'cause i was just so tired that I couldn't even speak.
He was the only uncle that cared about me, and usually had came to my house just to visit me and my parents, since i tried suicide so many times.
i just can't describe the pain I'm feeling now, idk anymore, I just can't stop thinking about that if we were rich he would be isolated of corona and this wouldn't happen, but no, we need money to live and to afford a good treatment. In the end the last thing i saw were that fucking brown box, sealed, with no sign of his existence.