We survive the death of our parents and that's how it should be. A particular freedom sets in, heavy and surrounded by silence and it is difficult to believe how easily we adhere to it. Life goes on, as voracious and fast as ever. What changes when everything should have changed? We are still afraid, we still laugh, we still love, and beyond fear, laughter or love we find our own finitude clinging to an irrevocable present.
