A couple of years ago, Noor brought me a mirrorball that I now keep on my windowsill. In the middle of the day, when the sun hits it at a forty-five degree angle, I tilt my head up to find dozens of speckled sun spots dappling the ceiling. Within half an hour, the daytime constellation fades.
There were whole days in March, where I’d stop working and lie down just to stare blankly at the light patches. Bereft of words and overwhelmed with too many feelings, I’d pour my grief into these little ceiling stars and imagine it traveling to constellations far away.
The month opened with Theo’s passing. I got the news as I was about to leave the
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