My dad died suddenly while I was in Japan. A memory of him lives on in my fridge

‘Depending on how many toasties we make, the block might do us for another month or so,’ Nova Weetman writes. Photograph: franckreporter/Getty Images

My father died suddenly and I’m still working my way through the half block of cheese that I rescued from his fridge. After a hastily organised funeral where I delivered a eulogy too long for the warm afternoon, he was cremated. My brother collected his ashes and his favourite T-shirt.

But his cheese lives on. Still in its torn packet, with one of Dad’s trademark purple elastic bands keeping it sealed, it has evolved into something other than food, and I refuse to imagine the meal when I finish it. My logic being that if it exists then so, somehow, does my dad.