Alderaan became a measurement. Not of tears, which really never stop flowing, even when you aren't thinking about them, even when they aren't seen. But of moments. The firsts, since.
Cold, guilt and hunger. Thoughts, steps, mornings. The wave of condolences, and then they stop.
Measure, little by little, the hurt in having, making, being. How the gap between two hearts closes until, without knowing when it happened, Alderaan, while not solid, not here, is not... gone. Not really.
Things lost are found again.
For love once means love anew.