Loss comes to us all sooner or later, in one form or another. I have lost lots of things in my short life – friends, clothes, toys, boyfriends, even a very dear phone. But at this point, the only loss that really affected me is the death of my grandmother.
I was only 7 when my grandmother came to live in the city with us six months after my grandfather died (and after performing all the necessary traditional rites required of a widow, of course). Before that, I only saw her during Easter and Christmas periods. Now, she would live the last nine years of her life in the next room.
Although I was in boarding school for the last six years of her life, we were fairly close. As close as our culture would allow. She was a very humble woman, yet strong, as independent as any…
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