This story is part of the September 7 edition of Sunday Life. See all 17 stories .

I was seven years old when I first truly understood what it meant to be an orphan. The film adaptation of the Annie musical had been released and I was confronted with the unsettling reality that parents could die, leaving their children in the care of guardians or, as in the case of that curly-haired redhead, an orphanage.

The idea shook me. My mum and dad were the biggest constant in my little life. How could I survive without them? Of all my early fears, it was this one that loomed the largest (even with the promise that the sun will come out tomorrow). My parents’ marriage didn’t survive my childhood, but thankfully for all our sakes they both did. It’s a good fortune not granted to all.

As the

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