I’m at the age where I still don’t feel properly grown up, I routinely fail at laundry and yet am clearly down the path of life where as much as your parents still do your head in, you live in fear of losing them.
This really struck home when a dear friend of theirs died very recently. Aunty Reena was like family to us when we were growing up in Scotland. Like my folks, she was from Assam in Northeast India and was a key part of a small, proud, close-knit diaspora community. She was a popular, well-respected doctor and a warm, kind, clever, gentle, elegant woman. I always remember her with her beautiful hair in a bun wearing her sari and a smile. Thankfully she died as she had lived — with dignity and surrounded by love.
