You'll miss them like the TV static from your apartment that you've become so accustomed to. You'll miss them like the last train home. Your chest will feel like it's caving in 24/7 and your lungs will feel like they've shriveled up and became dust in your body. But listen to me you have their name to live for baby. You'll want to throw your eardrums on top of the stars so you can try to hear their voice one last time and then you think heaven must be soundproof. Everyone says they'll be there for you but it's to their own accord. During this time everyone will be fluent in apologies. I'm sorry for my sympathy. It is now 3:47am.