"There isn’t a story. Not for the way a wave of loss will move through your loved ones. Not for the way you will pull a stranger into your mourning, then never need to see them again. Not for the way a country faces strange days, or a daughter sits at the bedside of her father and thinks about the call she has to make to the crematorium, and then about the bottle of vodka she found hidden in the garage the day before, and then about her dad’s friend in Houston who told her, your father never stopped talking about you, even though her father had never said a single good thing to her face. There isn’t a story that makes sense of all those things."
