The pain was a forever fixture in my life. Much like having arms and legs and ears. Their death was a truth that was both strange, and yet profoundly ordinary. People died every day. Well-meaning distant relations told me that one day I’d be able to move past it. But I’d traveled thousands of miles only to discover that I couldn’t leave this new weight I carried behind me. My parents were gone forever, but I brought them with me wherever I went.
