And so I learned about grief, and about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable. We went on, the three of us remaining, as we had to do. In all the practical ways we managed fine. Grandmam was still a vigorous woman, as she would be for years yet. My father, though seriously damaged by his loss for a while at least, was capable and a master of making do. I was big enough then to do a woman’s part, and I did it. But we had a year when even to look at one another would make us grieve.
