In a moment of childish impulse, the boy and I decided to watch Disney’s The Lion King.
This movie used to make me cry time after time.
This time, though, the image that gave me goosebumps was this:
My great-grandmother apparently loved giraffes. It was their big, beautiful eyes and long lashes. Such was her admiration that at a ripe old age, my granny who was afraid of thunder walked straight up to a wild giraffe for a photo.
She passed on at the age of 88 – when I was only eight years old. I loved her and she loved me and my siblings – I know that. But I am always a little sad that there had not been allwance for a time where I would be mature enough to bond with her, to learn from her.
Her death was difficult on my granny, who was with her mother until the end. Due to staff shortages, she had to man and watch the intercostal drain. She had to nurse her mother.