It was sadness that gripped him far more than the fear that, if facing the truth, he had maybe a year. When poetic phrases like “eyes, look your last” become true, all you want is to stay, to hold fast. A new, fierce attachment to all of this world now pierced him. It stabbed like a deity-hurled lightning bolt, lancing him, sent from above, left him giddy and tearful. It felt like young love.