I had almost forgotten the full size of it.

Grief has a way of shrinking the dead down to the fact of their dying.

For six years Lucas had become, in my daily mind, less a man than a loss — the thing that was taken, the absence I organized my days around.

And here, in ninety seconds of accidental footage, was the man himself restored to his full size: funny, stubborn, gentle with a hurting brother, incapable of leaving anyone alone in the dark if there was any chance of coaxing them back toward the light.

I had been mourning a hole.