Home as something we find in other people, maybe even in ourselves. Home as not just tied to places. I've always been drawn to this idea. When we lose a person, we lose a home. We are displaced, dislocated in the world.
When my father died, one of the first things I wrote was that he was my home and that, without him, I had no home. And it's true. What is a life, a house, a family without him?