My dearest Achan,
Eighteen years have passed and more, since Death took you by the hand and led you away. That moment of realisation that you had departed is still so clear, so breath-stealing these many years on. And yet. And yet I can no longer remember the exact quality of your voice, the timbre of your laugh. Memories of you are slideshows, short films that play in my imagination; you are animated, vividly coloured, laughing and larger than life.