After my grandfather died suddenly in an accident, I never wanted to return to his house. I never wanted to go to the town he lived in again. I probably would have just avoided the entire state of New Hampshire. But the rest of my family had a different outlook, and so we went. I still remember what it felt like to walk back in the house for the first time knowing he was gone. With each step I took I knew that all these perfect, pristine memories of him would be polluted by absence.