You know something that sucks? When you've grown up essentially an only child, and then both your parents die, too young.  You're the one to settle their affairs, let their friends know, take care of their remaining things. You feel the loss of the surviving parent, from what they've left.  But now that loss isn't just theirs anymore, it's yours.

And all your memories? Your family traditions? The good times and the bad? The shared experiences, the things they did for you? They're your memories alone now. You could tell people about them. But the actual  _memories_ are yours, flawed or not, and they'll die with you. You can't give those memories to anybody, even if somehow they deserve to continue to be remembered. They were special.

OK - a few things before I just go and delete this post:

1. Sometimes you just gotta give voice to that sense of loss.
2. I haven't lost perspective, just visiting a dark place in the early morning hours. It happens. So do beautiful things.
3. The best remedy after sleep will be to spend time with the kids. Of course, if I get all lovey, it'll freak them out. Which is fun in its own way, too.
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