Caleb did not stop speaking Lily’s name because he did not care.

He stopped because he cared so much that saying her name was, quite literally, more than he could bear.

His grief was not smaller than mine; it was, if anything, larger, so large that he could not look at it directly without feeling that it would destroy him, and so he did the only thing his particular kind of strength knew how to do with an unbearable thing: he sealed it away, and built a wall around it, and called the wall moving on.

It was cowardice, yes; he named it that himself, in our kitchen, and he was right.