It's been one year exactly today since Thando passed away. It's been really reassuring to read the messages of comfort and well wishes on Facebook and elsewhere. I know Thando would be touched, so thank you everybody.
When I was growing up in Ghana (actually it's still the same today) the newspapers would dedicate at least a couple of pages everyday to memorial notices. I used to wonder why there were so many of them, grainy black and white photos above a seemingly formulaic script, destined to be wrapped around a handful of roasted groundnuts at the roadside several days later.
But it doesn't matter that the newspaper eventually gets wrapped around a bundle of hot groundnuts or the web posts get buried under a mountain of other postings. I realise now that the simple act of remembering people dear to us is as essential as breathing. For remembrance places our hands on the rope that links each of us through space and time in a celestial web that disappears far away into the heavens. Now that's heavy for a Sunday afternoon while I wait to watch Arsenal struggle against lowly Swansea in the FA cup. If only they could remember……