As the one person in the family inside three generations who somehow dodged the depression wave, there is a vacancy that becomes visible within a person's behavior and sometimes demeanor. The difference between "Doing well" and "Looking well" is pretty subtle, but it becomes haunting the more you start to see it.

It is heartbreaking to see when a family member or loved one has been stolen from themself, and they don't really get to see the robbery that the universe perpetrated until an upswing catches them. They are aware of what's happening, but there is so much nothing inside of them that caring about what they lost does not compute, and it just kills me.