The experience of death is not a monolith. Sometimes, people die to us…with us…for us. They are dead and yet they have not physically passed over and beyond. There, but gone. Here, but entombed. The connection long since severed. The bonds of our shared love (what? Was it only a dream, a murmur? Are you still there?) are still taut inside our heavy tired hands. Our feet give out, we are slipping, pulled and dragged along by the heavy weight in the dark undertow. We imagine this is not possible. Surely they are not gone. Sinking? And yet they still breath! And yet they still talk! Surely I can pull them back ashore, breathe the air, the light returning to their vacant eyes. Any sign, God, show me any sign. But they refuse. They will not come back to life. Love. I love you, the corpse refuses our salvation.