My daddy called me twice. I missed the first. The last one I picked up. He wanted to talk about Tyre. “For this man to holler out mama,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine. I would cry.” He called me because he just wanted to hear the voice of his son. He wanted to hear my voice.

“Love you son, you take care of yourself,” he said. “Love you too,” I told him. My daddy isn’t a very emotional person. Tonight, he was very emotional. Vicarious suffering is a real thing. So is the love that refuses to allow this world to rob us of it.