Amama

Amama (my grandmother) died today. She was 92, confused and very frail and it wasn't entirely unexpected but it was still a shock. She died peacefully, quickly and in her own bed, with family around her - and I guess that is all that we could ask for her. The last thing she did was to have a couple of sips of her morning coffee, a thought which even now, in my first pangs of grief, makes me smile. She passed her obsessive love of coffee to her daughters and her grand-daughters, you see.

The last time I spoke to her, Amama didn't always know who I was - sometimes she thought I was my mother (her daughter). But the last thing I said to her was that I missed her and I love her - and that will be true forever.