"Barry? Barry, is this you?"
"Yes…. Who's this?"
"Yes, Barry…this is your Aunt Jane. In Nairobi. Can you hear me?"
"I'm sorry—who did you say you were?"
"Aunt Jane. Listen, Barry, your father is dead. He is killed in a car accident. Hello? Can you hear me? I say, your father is dead. Barry, please call your uncle in Boston and tell him. I can't talk now, okay, Barry. I will try to call you again…."
That was all. The line cut off, and I sat down on the couch, smelling eggs burn in the kitchen, staring at cracks in the plaster, trying to measure my loss.

Barack Obama, Dreams from my father