Mamu has left us? F's choice of euphemism on her daughter's answering machine is magical.
Mamu, the man who gambled away all of his and F's money, leaving her destitute at the age of 73.
Mamu, the man with a long history of balance issues who fell backwards down the stairs at the age of 80 because he was carrying a heavy suitcase and wearing a heavy backpack on an occasion when he shouldn't have been carrying anything, wearing anything, or walking anywhere, least of all on uncarpeted stairs. "Stay here while I park the car," F had vainly instructed.
Mamu, the man who suffered massive brain damage yet was cognizant enough to refuse to use his high-tech walker.
Mamu, the man who, in the end, likely tripped over the walker as he pretended to use it while doing the dishes, slammed his head once more for good measure, and essentially killed himself. (Although we'll never know for sure what happened because he never came out of his coma. All we know is that he was covered in blood and coffee grounds when F came back into the kitchen.) That Mamu has mysteriously stopped breathing seven days after his final KO.
Mamu, the man who, in his younger days, drunkenly threw F's son on top of a coffee table during an argument when the son was 12 years old.
Mamu, the man who, in his blackout days, may have molested (or at least propositioned) F's daughter (more than once), but could not remember doing such a thing when he was sober.
Really? He left us?
From my bystander's vantage point, he remains very much with us.