This is the Eulogy I wrote for my mum. It's not exhaustive, but then again... It was written in those sleepless, confused, busy, and emotional days of the funeral. If I managed to pull it off, that is, if it sounds nice and reads well (My cousin Brenda insisted that it does), then well and good. If it is a poor job, well, I was the writer and the editor, so the mistake is entirely mine. But, seriously, why am I being hard on myself. Just read, if you knew her, well and good, if you did not, then too bad. It's almost a week since I left Nairobi and I think this should be the last of the blogs in which I talk about her death. As journalists, I have been told here in Mexico, we need to talk about life and so, well, I will talk about her life --not endlessly and not in an annoying way, but in just the way that I remember her. But meanwhile, here is what I felt then, about my dad, losing the love of his life. It was a blow, at least to me, so I won't speculate how hard a blow i...
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