“Nobody is perfect. Remember them as they were.” Words from the minister at a school assembly, after tragedy had taken the life of a fellow pupil. I held that lesson. The words comforted me through loss. Because nobody is perfect. We are all beautifully flawed. But now you are gone. The words are hollow. Empty. I find no comfort in them now. Because you were perfect. Your dreams were simple and beautiful. Your view of the world—playful. You infected people with your laughter. You gave your love freely and asked for nothing in return. But. Nobody is perfect.