I have been working in Melbourne these last few days and spending nights at my grandfather's house with all the extended family.
At work I am stimulated and engaged and at night I fill my handkerchief with all the tears I have inside me as I worry about my grandfather and mourn my grandmother's death and deal with the abruptness of her final full stop.
Today at work during morning tea we watched Obama's inauguration speech and for the first time I was able to see my Booba's death in a wider context.
What's that line from Ecclesiastes? To everything there is a season.