The Wall

I was not ready to become the keeper of family history. I still almost call when something breaks or when I finally understand a joke they would have loved. 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. The grief hits hardest when something mildly funny happens.