My parent died and now the world feels slightly unparented. The voicemail is so short and still too heavy to keep in my pocket. I was not expecting to miss the annoying reminders, the repeated stories, the ordinary checking in. The holidays are quieter in a way that sounds insulting. Every family story has a blank line in it now. I miss being someone’s child in a room without having to say it out loud.
For the mother I had before dementia