The thinnest shaft of light entered the empty chambers of my heart, just for a moment. Then it disappeared, extinguished by the weight of all that had gone before.
For when all else is done, onÂly words reÂmain. Words enÂdure.
The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.
We are who we are, beÂcause of those we choose to love and beÂcause of those who love us.
