Grief Is the Thing with Feathers

by Max Porter

After the advent of laser surgery but before puberty, before self-consciousness, before secondary school, before money, time or gender got their teeth in. Before language was a trap, when it was a maze.

Before Dad was a man in the last thirty years of his life. Really, on reflection, the best possible time to lose a mum.

We were careful to age her, never trap her. Careful to name her Granny, when Dad became Grandpa. We hope she likes us.