…we drove to my grandma’s village, which is north from our home town, Varna. It was a beautiful and crispy winter day; all was covered in silver specks…trees and the soil. Breathtaking and rather ominous. As soon as I saw her, my maminka, I knew this would be our last meeting. At least in this life. Ten days later she passed away. She could not bear the thought of burying her child. I had to live with that…as it was my duty to bury my father.