A photo essay of a family in mourningnperforated ever so slightly to better let the lights seep throughnSunday traffic clears a pathnwe float inches above the roadnclose our eyes and drive so slownlike we never need to get homennTo clear the doorstep of flowersnthrow open the blinds in his empty roomnavert our eyes from his fingerprintsnis there something I'm forgetting?nnfall to my knees in the hospital parking lotnon the way in, arms full of branchesnI am dead fall, dead fallnLast time I came here to visit himnI ran sunburn through the hallsnmy arms full of tiger liliesnI don't remember thisnI was told to go homennTo clear the doorstep of flowersnthrow open the blinds in his empty roomnavert my eyes from his fingerprintsnis there something I'm forgetting?nn(Why, when you know you should go, is it so hard to leave?)nnCame this far to say goodbye, to make things rightninstead I fiddle with his blanketsnfetching coffee no one would drinknI am not preparednThrough the hush of debts and the roar of enginesnstruggled to recall, this is how it endednthis is how it endsnnHome,nturn the key in the door and fallnfor what it seems like an awfully long timenthere's something I'm both remembering and forgettingna name on the tip of my tonguenn(Why, when you know you should go, is it so hard to leave?)n