When rain leaks through a roof, a bucket contains its dripping water. Broken ceilings, torn walls, and ripped curtains can be fixed, rebuilt, and sown back together. What happens then when emptiness overtakes you? An emptiness so infinite that it is immeasurable. Emptiness so deeply rooted that you cannot comprehend where it starts or where it ends.

No words can fill a void like this. It’s like pouring high spirits and encouragement into a broken glass—it cannot contain these. Lying in bed throughout the day, forcing yourself to oversleep becomes familiar. To cry quietly and mask sadness as anger becomes natural.

I picture you sitting on this very same couch, legs crossed, as always. I remember you washing your trucks, so rigorously and with pride. I think about meeting with you for dinner. Losing you is losing a part of me, though I know your spirit is with me.