" How rarely these few years, as work keeps up aloof,
Or fares, or one thing or another,
How we had days to spend under our parents' roof;
Myself, my sister, and my brother.

All five of us will die; to reckon from the past
This flesh and blood is unforgiving.
What's hard is that just one of us will be the last
To bear it all and go on living. "

― Vikram Seth