That’s what happens when someone dies; they become a collection of stories, a handful of photos

There's a story in my family that goes like this. One time, before I was born, my parents went to America, leaving my sister Over Home in my grandparents’ house.

When they returned, my sister wept; she had begun calling my grandparents Mammy and Daddy and could not understand who these strangers were and why they had come to steal her away.