




Written as a catharsis before I knew the word catharsis as I struggled to understand why my Grandfather – the only adult in my life whom I could really trust – had died and said to me, on his last day, “what is wrong with me, mother?”

Written as a catharsis before I knew the word catharsis as I struggled to understand why my Grandfather – the only adult in my life whom I could really trust – had died and said to me, on his last day, “what is wrong with me, mother?”