In some ways I realised how lucky I was to be living with my grandparents each and every summer. It is the most glorious of places to live– to live there with them. In other ways it was horrendous. The separation, the anxiety– all of it. The going away, like a gutwrenching pain. (I guess I have to explain this pain somehow.) Part of growing up with grandparents as parents? Death!! Death of course. Early death, early death.
This was a draft of a piece I had written for the New York based magazine n+1 and I guess I had continued to write on the draft. The bit that intrigues me the most is the “early death,” part, and it’s something I’ve been thinking on the past few days.