Watched grandpa dying, held his hand, spoke softly to him, stroked his head, laid his hand on mine, opened myself up. Granny and I sat on either side of him, hours passed, my arm across his body. I watched him blinking, softly convulsing and felt myself gently moving to and fro, back and forth between voyerism and intimacy. He shuddered and moaned and shook in in a way that seemed like a quiet passionless orgasm. She and I may have been intensely avoiding each other's gaze.

While thinking about how to try to talk to my brother’s two year old daughter about her father's death I found, or constructed a sense of the power of love to connect me with other people, lots of people, some of them in other dimensions other spaces and times can feel my love and I can feel theirs.

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