Dad “He’s dead?” said Princess. […] “Who told you that?” said Grandad. “We keep that name moving in the Overhead,” he said, and it seemed to Princess that the wind in the shutter arrays above her blew more forlornly […] His name is in the code, in the wind, in the rigging, and the shutters. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Man’s not dead while his name is still spoken’?...
For the past twenty years, you’ve been the bane of my existence. I slept with the phone by the bedside, never knowing when Mummy would call, and one of us would have to come find you, and dig you out of the newest hole you dug for yourself. And none of those years have been harder, than the one where we were estranged for the past year. Two decades of picking up after you had taken their toll....
I lost my Mai today. Until my mid 30s, I rued the gulf that stood between Mai and me. While my parents insistence on teaching us English, as our primary language has benefited me immensely, in most everything I do, the one thing that I feel sad about is that I speak my mother tongue (Konkani) in a slow halting manner. 1 Which meant that I never could talk well with my grandmother....
Abby lost her grandmother this week. This is her eulogy to her. She was Aunty Matty to other people, mummy to her children and countless other fond names to who knew her. But she was my Nana. I have memories of her cradling me, and taking care of me as a baby. Vacations at Nana’s were the highlight of my childhood years. She was a tireless, hard working woman who raised her large family to the best of her abilities....
Dad was what Brett McKay calls, both a good man and good at being a man. I could write reams about my father, but I wouldn’t know where to start. He gave me life and then has been my sustenance ever since. He’s the source of everything that’s good in me. His deep baritone, echoed in our fledgling church as we sung hymns every Saturday. When I close my eyes and remember my early years, it’s his voice that sings me rhymes and lullabies....