My grandfather died on the 11th June 1992, just days before my 12th birthday. I remember falling to pieces yet immersing myself in mundane tasks, and how strange it felt to do that so easily. This was the first time I learnt how. As soon as I heard, I made my mother a cup of tea, sobbing hysterically. Outside the traffic kept moving, the bees still humming. I was just getting to know him as a person, as a human being. His death cast a long shadow that lasts to this day. He remains a constant presence in my life.
