Carla Carlisle on learning to slow down — and how little life might mean if we don’t.
My father did not come to England to live with us. He came to die with us. What I didn’t understand was the honour: in the midnight of his life he wanted to be with his daughter who lived 3,000 miles away. He left behind his home, his books and his beloved dog. He arrived with a grim diagnosis and a single suitcase, which contained an envelope stuffed with insurance papers, his…
