Pia was one clever woman, I think to myself. The reason for this Rule is simple. At a time when our families could be fractured as we process her death, she’s implemented a reason for them to stay together and be entwined. Our mums have such a passion for their cooking, it’s what they were always able to nurture in us, even as adults. Her Rule has given them permission to continue with that, and therefore for our families to stay as close as they’ve ever been.

‘I’ll get an extra chair,’ says Dad. ‘We need to hear all about this adventure of yours while we eat.’

I can’t fathom what the last couple of years must’ve been like for the four people here. Anju and Sajan losing their daughter, something that feels so out of the natural order of things and the way life should be. They had to watch her suffer, witness her low moments where life showed itself to be deeply cruel, and then they had to endure saying goodbye. My own parents might not have lost a child, but not only were they close to Pia, having known her since we were teenagers, but they had to watch their son’s turmoil knowing there was nothing they could do to ease the pain or fix the situation. I have been so consumed in my own grief that perhaps I haven’t allowed myself to truly see this until now.

‘We want to know everything. Mostly, how did Zaza handle camping?’ Mum asks, whipping off tinfoil and cling film before handing out plates so everyone can tuck in.

‘Camping? She almost didn’t make it one night in the hotel,’ I chuckle, and then dive in with my first story.

We sit and I talk. I give them a full debrief of my time away. I make them laugh with my tales and it feels so wonderful to feel the connection between us all, and for us to collectively feel something beyond grief.

Once my fridge and freezer have been fully stocked with leftovers and everything has been washed and put away, they make to leave. With the fuzziness of jetlag kicking in I have to say I’m relieved when the door shuts and I’m able to climb into my comfortable bed and sleep.

*

By Monday afternoon I’m back at my desk and working my way through the long list of emails I’ve received since being away. I’m stoked to discover I’ve been asked to pitch for a big client off the back of previous work and know I’ll enjoy working away on that for the foreseeable – it’s the joy of being freelance. One email or phone call can shift your whole working focus.