This is what today’s grief looked like. A tiny chocolate biscuit / bourbon that my father deeply loved.

The last time we ate it, I was in Delhi, he was in Jamshedpur. We nibbled our biscuits over FaceTime. He spoke about how it had grown smaller & expensive over the 40 years he ate it.

This morning I left one for him, knowing well he would never share another biscuit or a story with me.

We need to make memories in the present, so we have something to live with when new memories cannot be made.