It all began on a bright spring morning in 2020.

I found myself standing at my dad’s grave , two days after his funeral , holding a bundle of wilted flowers that needed to be taken away, a bucket of water and a cloth.

My eyes welled with tears – but, having grown up watching my father bring water to give our loved ones’ graves a quick rinse, I couldn’t bear to leave until his resting place looked well cared for and dignified.

After an hour of scrubbing the stone and pulling at stubborn weeds, my hands were numb, and my back felt worn out. But as the sun came out, I took a deep breath.

It struck me then that I had no idea how to return to work after all this.

All I wanted was a little more time with my dad – but I was working full-time in central London and I wouldn’t hav

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