How do you go on living knowing that you will never again – not ever, ever – see the person you have loved? How do you survive a single hour, a single minute, a single second of that knowledge? How do you hold yourself together? He wanted to ask Libor that. ‘How did you get through the first night of being alone, Libor? Did you sleep? Have you slept since? Or is sleep all that’s left to you?’ But he couldn’t. Perhaps he didn’t want to hear the answer. Though once Libor did say, ‘Just when you think you’ve overcome the grief, you realise you are left with the loneliness.’
He had loved his parents without being close to them.
a man who stood so straight he created a sort of
architectural silence around himself. You could hang a plumb line from him,