How little we have left of the departed, and how difficult it is to reach them, touch them again, and feel the warmth of their life through these soulless traces. And how bitter it is for us from such impotence. Here, in the face of loss, we are all equal. No matter how high you soar, how strong, how fast, there's nothing you can do about it. All your regalia is just an empty sound for the deep abyss that the departed leave in us, forcing us to learn to live without them, in a different way, overcoming old habits that are so dear to us, but now impossible without their presence.