Three days ago, my last living grandparent died. My yiayia, my maternal grandmother, my second mother, a gigantic character who loved and cared for me since the day I drew my first breath. I am devastated, confused and scared. But writing has always been a form of catharsis for me, a way to express my emotions and let it all out, so I am sitting at my laptop, listening to the rain outside, wiping my tears, trying to make sense of the fact that along with the loss of my yiayia comes the loss of an entire generation of my family.