I don’t want to accept you’re gone. Perhaps instead you’re traveling somewhere and too busy to stop by to say hello. The idea of attending your farewell ceremony feels like filing a missing persons report. I recount the last time I saw you, how you looked, what we talked about, where I thought you might have gone and a party is gathered. To seek and find your remains for closure seems to signify the search is over. Maybe it’s like a game of sardines. One by one we discover and crowd together in the hiding place of death. Gathering in solidarity acknowledging a final rite of passage completed and waiting for our friends to join us.