What he didn’t understand was that you never knew what it was like to miss your mother in the way he missed her. Now you do. Once upon a time, loss was, for many of your own, the only constant they knew. But it is no less difficult or constant now that it is only you. Nor will it be on the day the earth alone misses you, though it will see years of my own cubs born and sent to wander before you cease to rise with the sun.
