After my father died, my mother asked me to help her clear out the attic in the house where they had lived together.
I came across his briefcase, one of those old, rather ugly brown concertina type things and asked her if she wanted
to keep it or not. She said, "that was his last pillow". She had awoken to find him lying dead by the side of their bed
with his head resting on the case. This was 37 years ago - I'm a person that does not generally hang on to things, I have
a fairly monkish existence in many ways but I've carried this case around with me ever since.
I never had a close or warm relationship with either parent and when I was visiting Joakim with the 'pillow' I was overwhelmed by an intimacy I felt with my father that I had never experienced when he was alive or since. I'd say it was strange but I'm not so sure I find anything strange these days.