This is a question I asked myself repeatedly, as I uncovered layer after layer of pain and fear. So many times I wanted to throw in the towel and become a plumber — opt for an easier life. A life where I wasn’t pulled towards unearthing yet more uncomfortable truths.

I would have tantrums, too. Sobbing and pleading for the grief to just go away. I had done all I could to find Christian, my missing brother. Then I had done all I could to return him ‘home’ (bring his missing soul part back from Africa). Then I had done all I could to retrace, and experience, his last few months of life…