Inexplicable

There are some things I will always know. Things I can see with my eyes closed, in the dark, at 2 a.m., on a mountain, in the Andes. Things like my mother's laugh, the way my dad's hand moves as it brushes crumbs out of his beard, my brother's upper lip and the way it curls when he's telling a lie. And then there are the things I will never know. How did Shakespeare manage to cram all that meaning into iambic pentameter? Why Nick had to die like that. And how to explain something you are feeling so deeply you feel it should require no explanation, to a person who just simply doesn't know, and might not ever understand. How to explain that it does not mean that they are doing something wrong for not knowing, and that I am not doing something wrong by failing to come up with the right words. How to explain that I feel my heart tense and drop a little bit every time the subject is brought up -- or shot down. How to explain that I'm sorry, even though I probably have nothing to be sorry for.