My mum has got a lot nicer as she has got older. Growing up, she had an unpredictable temper. I tried not to give her reasons to be mad at me, but she was not rational in her rage, lashing out when she had a particularly bad day (she struggled with a gambling addiction), or when bills were (over)due.

Now 87 years old, she is smiling whenever I visit her. Mum has been diagnosed with dementia and recently moved into an aged care facility. When I see her, I always tell her who I am. So far, she has always responded, “I know.”

Sometimes we sit in her room, other times in the dining room, where she leans in confidentially. “You should eat,” she says. “The food here is free!”

I have gradually stopped bracing myself for her criticisms of my weight and life choices, which used to characterise my visits home. Sometimes it is hard, looking at my mum, a cute old Asian lady in an oversized tracksuit, to see the tyrant who loomed over my life for so long, the reason I still tense........

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