It was easy for people to assume because I lost my parents young that I would forget, or I would get over it. Everyday living without the two people you loved the most was torture. Every celebration, every low you experienced, and every piece of your life was reduced to wondering if they were proud of you. Hugs became further and further in the rearview, and you learned to adapt without them. Convinced yourself that you didn’t really love hugs anyway, knowing that somewhere, long ago, you loved affection.
