I saw my dad, 60, playing a lullaby on his piano for my *Dadi*. She’s 85, a former concert pianist herself, but she was just tapping her foot, a little off-beat, to some melody he wrote that I’ve never heard before. And I felt... what? Not anger, not sadness, just this weird *absence* of feeling, like a diagnostic void when there should be something. How can you witness that—that quiet, almost sacred exchange—and just feel blank? It’s not a lack of empathy, I don't think, but this hollow space where understanding should be. It’s infuriating.