Three of my grandparents died before I was born. I wish I had spent more time getting to know my one grandmother. Since her death, ten years ago, I’ve heard stories about how much she loved me. I don’t know why. I never knew her well enough for her to love me.
I do know that all of my grandparents lived in Tanzania. Whether they were born there or not, I’m not sure. I think so. That part of my past is gone now. I’m lucky enough to have been left with something my parents never had at my age: their own parents.