The Immensity of Our Tiny Selves

This poem is about a friend who'd lost her mother - and then her father- in quick succession. And I asked her about what the loss meant. And she could only remember the smallest things of them which suddenly had the biggest meanings.   And this is what love does - it makes us notice the smallest of quirks, which makes our loved one what she is. Alas, sometimes, after they are no more.