Tracing My Grandfather’s Past Took Me to the Violent Heart of the British Empire
A small gathering of family members stood around an open grave in the English countryside, my father’s mother lying in a casket beside us. It was a summer’s day in the village of Oaksey, near the Cotswolds, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. There was a biblical atmosphere as the skies opened and, with a flash of light, the rain came flooding down. Before the priest gave a eulogy, I read a letter my grandfather had written to my grandmother just before he died.The letter paints a picture of...
