it's hard to believe that a person can cease to exist but the world doesn't pause. but why should it? what will that give you? those moments will not give you the time to conjure up words powerful enough to erase his parents' pain. you will never have enough hours to explain to his friends how sorry--really, truly sorry--you are that they will never see him again. there is simply not enough time in the world to transform their burial into the wedding it was supposed to be.
maybe it's better not to have the time because, honestly, maybe it's better to pretend nothing happened. maybe our busyness, our hurry, our unthinking rush is our best homage to the dead: an admission that we know we are too small to ever create something that could fill the void they left. our reluctance to speak is a confession of fear, and oddly a confession of faith--faith that, in this world of constant chatter and bullshit statements, our silence can hold all the love we have.
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