The most intriguing thing about my father was his absence. There were perhaps other genuinely interesting elements of his character, but none of them touched me. They didn’t even sand down the surface of my skin, whereas his death - not the man, but his passing - chiseled into me, molded me, punctured me, shaped me into something like a person, and to have emptiness bore into you, to have Nothing cause you to grow in a certain way, isn’t that like a breakdown of the laws of physics? A paradox in a sci-fi film where the cosmos shrinks down to a pinhead, crumbling all of space and time?