How do you even begin to describe the joy of loving the lost you’ve never seen and then finding them?

It’s like living in winter, seeing only bare branches and one day noticing a bud and
watching as a leaf unfurls, one green leaf and then another.                                                       

It’s like the melody flowing on inside long after the tune is over . . . 

The people, my father, my two aunts and their children disappeared before I knew them, but their music lived in me like songs from a once flowering civilization.