There is really no way around sorrow of this depth, this breadth. He writes after Aaron and my dad have died. It simply has to be gone through. When I come to in the morning, before I’m fully awake, I have this vague, weighty sense of unease, as if there is something radically wrong with the world, and I don’t quite know what it is. Then I remember. We continue to grope about in the darkness. They are in the light.
