Nana’s skin, soft as silk Popa’s scratchy moustache Raised freckles on Dad’s back Mama’s round brown shoulders, the warmest hugs Safe under the covers, between the two of them Baby sister, with the cutest face, my living doll

Seven years ago my Dad fell down the stairs at his home, late one evening. He was knocked unconscious and died. When the ambulance arrived they were able to revive him, and he was transported to the nearest hospital and put on life support.

My childhood friend, Asthma, visited me this week and sent me into a different form of ceremony one evening when I couldn’t sleep at all. Fighting for breath, I wrestled with my mind and emotional body to understand why it was happening.