"When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose them all at once; you lose them in pieces over a long time—the way the mail stops coming, and their scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in their closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of them that are gone. Just when the day comes—when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that they're gone, forever—there comes another day, and another specifically missing part."
