My father was a nihilist. Death was as meaningless as life, heād always insisted, almost evangelically, and he was not afraid of it. When I was 8, he recited Macbethās āOut, out, brief candle!ā soliloquy to me, uttering the last two words with an exuberant flourishāāSignifying nothingāāand most of the time his philosophy retained that over-the-top relish.
Daniel Loedel,Ā āMy Sister Was Disappeared 43 Years Agoā in the AtlanticĀ













