Saint Jerome Writing

30/10/2021

My grandmother died earlier this month. On Saturday morning, my mother woke up in a panic, urged by some feeling she could not name, to call her sister who lived with my grandmother. Something about that phone call prompted my aunt to check up on her mother, only for my aunt to realise that she was not breathing.

I woke up to my mother’s keening wail which seeped into my dream-state, nudging me onto my feet. My father knocked on my door just as I was swinging it open. Even before he spoke, I knew. A lumpy deadweight formed in my stomach…

This piece was first published on RIC Journal. Click here to read the full story.

Cover image sourced from here.