Some thoughts, a year on. The primary way I seem to have dealt with things is that I have locked almost all the memories of my mother in a tight strongbox inside my chest – to open it is to release so many thoughts of her, all of which cause me so much pain. It… Continue reading More on Grief
I’ve been packing recently, and in the hoards of stuff I’ve dug out, there were a couple of VHS tapes from my childhood. The most significant is one my mother recorded when I was about a year old. In it, I am a shorn-headed brown-skinned little precocious gabbler, getting quite beaten up by her elder… Continue reading Of Mama, and Baba
It was in the staff takeaway shop that I saw a tray of red velvet cake slices and felt a deep sadness that I couldn’t even understand until much later, when I remembered that my mother had asked me to get her a piece some days before she died. That is how the grief appears in… Continue reading Of Grief.