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But for me, the brightness of the sky or the visibility of the meteors doesn’t matter. The Perseid meteor shower finds me whenever and however it appears, carrying the weight of that terrible week when the sky fell in silver streaks around me, and my father fell away from us forever.

Each and every year, mention of the Perseid connects me across decades to the moments on a dark interstate in 1992— my husband and I watching in wonder. Even today, I look upward and am blown away by the meteor shower’s magnificence. But I look up there for another reason, too. I look up there hoping that somewhere among those brilliant streaks of light, my father’s spirit is still falling gently through the darkness, falling all around me, reminding me that even in our deepest grief, beauty and love continue to illuminate the world.