I’VE CAUGHT UP to myself, then.

Of course, it’s been days since the storm. Even writing every spare minute I’ve found, it’s taken me a long time to get it all down. And I can tell you what’s happened when I haven’t been writing, how I’ve stayed alive these few extra days.

But I can’t keep avoiding the one thing that made me start writing. It’s time, now, to tell you about the moment when before became after. When everything fell apart.

This is how my father died.