I held the news, a grenade that would burst my mother’s heart
Three days ago, as I write, my auntie died. It hurts to say it, but I must, because it is a fact. Learning to say those words is a journey that began four years ago, when my mum’s brother died. He lived in my mother’s motherland, so the news should have travelled by phone. But when his wife could not get through to Mum, she tried me.
And so it was that I held the news, a grenade that would burst my mother’s heart.