We often speak of grief as a shadow, but in truth, it is more like a collapsed star. Though the immediate light of what we loved has vanished from view, its immense weight remains behind – an invisible, unyielding force sitting in the center of the house, moving from room to room, settling where you least expect it. We find ourselves caught in its orbital decay, circling a point that no longer exists in the physical realm. Our daily steps feel weighted down by a ghost gravity that dictates the trajectory of every morning. We remain tidally locked to the absence, perpetually showing the same cratered face to the dark.