This is after the funeral of my mother. We are at the house of Leah, the first wife of my brother. In Lua’s arms is her half-sister Marta. I remember well the behaviour of Ralph, my mother’s second husband. He was sincerely and honestly moved by her death, and expressed his love for her. Most of us witnessed constant quibbling and nagging between the two of them, and it wasn’t always comfortable to be with them. Such are the ways of love.