My memory of my protectors is the last thing of them left. Maybe I do have a duty to carry on the best of them, to take the lessons they gave me. To be as brave as Dom, as kind as Beau. To somehow find a way to be as joyful as Lucky or as clever as Jasper. To train myself to be as full of fight as Jaykob. But how can I do that when I feel like this? It’s like all color and light has leached from my soul and everything is now cast in uninspiring shades of ash and onyx.
