My Leoly was gone. The last time she spoke to me was outside that old, run-down apartment. She was already in a wheelchair. She had to eat with a spoon. She tried to tie my tie—but couldn't even manage a proper knot. The last thing she said to me was, "It's getting colder. You should dress warmer." So many signs. So many quiet goodbyes. And I missed every single one. How could I have not seen it?