So if we understand consent in physical spaces, and we are learning to respect it in emotional spaces, and we honor it even in something as simple as a sign on a door…

Why does it disappear when the topic becomes spiritual?

It’s strange how you can genuinely miss someone who lived in that space between stranger and friend.

But I do.

I named him Stout later—not just because of his color, but because he was sturdy, solid, something I could lean on without fear of breaking him.

Sometimes we get angry at the consequences because it hurts too much to look at the decisions — or circumstances — that put us there in the first place. Sometimes blame becomes a place to put grief when there’s nowhere else for it to go.

When someone you love stops having birthdays, it’s strange. It’s heavy in a different way. Because you’re celebrating someone who should still be celebrating with you.