A faded green sofa and mismatched armchairs in red and blue surrounded the simply-structured wooden coffee table. Brother and sister morosely entered the ancient living room. It still smelt of her – that indescribable musk. Was it truly a scent or was it merged with all the stories that she had told; was it the scent of memories of the life that she had lived?

One thing they were certain about – their grandmother was gone. They looked around the room, remembering their childhood. How they’d stroke the strangely striped wallpaper that alternated vertical stripes of shiny tan and furry brown. How they’d sit by the gas fire during the winter. How they’d boredly play with the little figurines on the marble mantlepiece.

The old box TV sat covered in dust, probably never to be watched again. Brother rifled through a stack of old vinyls – their sleeves worn at the edges and artwork sun-bleached. He picked a record at random, twirling it in his hands, deep in thought. Sister cried as she stared at the white china sugar bowl with blue chinoiserie patterns, and the matching cup and saucer that were set on the coffee table. The cup still had a few drops of tea in its base and a pale-rose lipstick stain at its rim. She lifted the filigree-handled silver spoon from the saucer. It was almost as if Grandma had been here moments before, stirring the sugar lumps into her tea, “…thrice clockwise, and thrice anticlockwise”.

Both brother and sister held their positions, each in their own reverie but sharing the same thought. Was this what was left then, at the end? Old records, random bric-a-brac and framed memories of smiling faces that no longer roamed this earth? What would they make of their own lives? Would they waste it away, or would they be like their grandmother who had sought new experiences, leapt at opportunities, and who fearlessly dared to live – a woman who had turned her dreams into a lifetime of beautiful memories?

In the midst of the haze of their grief, Grandma was still teaching them even in her death. To feel into each moment fully, to grace their lives with presence, and most of all to love with a full heart. Brother stopped twirling the record and set it down. Sister carefully replaced the spoon to the saucer. They looked at each other, crying both tears of sadness and of joy as, hand-in-hand, they slowly exited the room.