I got through the eulogy. I got through the reception. I drove home to an empty house and put my suit away. And then, not knowing what else to do, I drove to the woods and started walking, looking for sheds. I walked for hours. I wanted to cry, knew I needed to mourn the loss of the only completely unconditional love I’d ever known. But the tears wouldn’t come. I made myself start repeating the words, “I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Mom.” A mantra. I said it dozens, maybe a hundred times. At last the first tear fell. Soon my face was wet and contorted and I was being flooded and I kept saying it anyway.