If Helene was here. It still hits me like a truck that she’s not just stuck at work, not late because a client ran overtime. She’s gone, forever. Maybe once we have the funeral it’ll be easier to keep straight. Though, at this rate, we’re going to have too many funerals for any of them to register. It’s easy to feel loss—to focus on it, to mourn it—if it’s just one. Too much missing? All those absences, all stacked up? That’s just night. How can you tell the shadows apart to feel them when there’s so much darkness?
