When people die, they really take a piece of you with them. It would be several years and many more deaths until I’d come to understand that this missing piece is okay; it’s theirs to keep wherever they are. That they live forever because I remember them, and I bring them with me everywhere I go. But it would take a very long time for me to not feel frustrated by grief, so mercurial, which only stops when you suddenly notice it just doesn’t hurt anymore.
