I was old enough to understand what death meant, but not old enough to understand what it could do to the person left behind.
My father changed after the funeral.
Before Mom died, he filled every room he entered.
He sang while making coffee.
He told terrible jokes at dinner and laughed before reaching the punch line.
He always had music playing in the house.
Afterward, the house became painfully quiet.
For a long time, he refused to date anyone.