In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.

Love does not stop reaching for someone because they have died. In the dark of a loss, hope keeps looking for a light, and listening goes on as though an answer might come. Nothing is being argued about what lies beyond death, and whatever you believe about where the person now is, that reaching is real.

If you have lost somebody, you may find yourself doing this and wondering whether it is foolish. It is not. Talking to them, listening for them, keeping their habits alive in your own: these are the ordinary shapes grief takes, and they ask no belief of you.