As the teacher continued with the lesson, I am left behind in my memories. When such an important person disappears from your life, this feeling of being stuck in memories permeates through everything you do. Mama died a week ago, and since then I have found myself thinking of little else but her. As the world moves around me, my mind wanders and conversations become a dull drone in the background of thoughts of remembrance.

I new Mama as the endlessly loving and kind old lady that she had been as long as I had known her. But sat in class surveying the variety of characters in the room, I imagine her life before my family, when she was in school. Was she the girl sitting at the back, absentmindedly doodling in her notepad? Or had she been up the front intently taking notes, answering every question with a hand instantly jumping into the air? At lunch times was she stood in the playground surrounded by a gaggle of friends or was she in a secluded corridor with my grandad? They had met in primary school and had been best friends throughout: best friends for the rest of their lives.

I am woken from my thoughts by the lunchtime bell ringing and I re-enter the room to the teacher wrapping up the lesson (I couldn’t even tell you what it had been about). I leave the classroom pulled along by the river of kids spilling into the hallway. I observe the happy chaos around me as I move through the school. A group of girls sitting in a circle excitedly catching each other up on their weekends. A group of boys playfully throwing bits of sandwich at each other outside the window while two friends sit quietly chatting on a bench to the side. In between each of them runs a constant flow of students eager to begin their break.

As I enter the cafeteria I am surrounded by cheerful students. All of their faces seem absent of worry or sadness. I Imagine my grandma as one of these students, with her whole life ahead of her. A life full of friendship, love and what would become an incredible family.

I only knew Mama in the last 12 years of her life. But she had a treasure trove of memories from a full and vibrant life. The part I experienced had just been the final chapter. A chapter that I am thankful to be a part of. My sadness slowly drains from me as I realise the my grandmas story had been a long and happy one. As I reach my friends gathered in the cafeteria I stop dwelling on my grandmas story and rejoin my own.