Okay, so... I’ve been sitting on this for a while, like, too long. Anyone else ever feel this profound sense of relief after a parent dies? Like, I know that sounds absolutely monstrous, and believe me, I’ve had plenty of sleepless nights wrestling with it, but… here we are. My dad passed away a few months ago, and honestly? I finally feel like I can breathe. Like, genuinely breathe. My whole adult life, pretty much since I was barely out of college, was spent taking care of him after his accident. He was never the same, you know? Not able to work, in and out of hospitals, always needing something. And it fell to me. My siblings were… busy. And I just, I couldn’t not. So I took the second job, then the third, just to keep everything afloat. Our house was always drafty, the car always had that rattling sound, and I just kept telling myself, "One day. One day this will be over, and you'll get to live your own life." I remember one time he just looked at me, completely serious, and said, "What would I do without you?" And I smiled, like you do, but inside I was screaming, "I don't know, Dad, but I sure as hell know what *I* could do without *this*." The last few years were particularly hard. My own body started doing weird things, you know, the whole perimenopause fun ride? Hot flashes popping up at the most inconvenient times, feeling like I was walking through molasses some days, and trying to manage his endless appointments and demands on top of it all. I felt like I was disappearing, like I was just this… beige shadow in the world, whose only purpose was to fetch medication and make sure he ate. People would look right through me at the grocery store, like I was just another item on the shelf. And I hated myself for feeling that way, for being so resentful of the man who gave me life, but God, I was just so TIRED. Bone-deep tired. And then, he was gone. Not suddenly, not really, but quickly enough at the end. I expected to feel devastated. Grieving. And I did, a little, I think? But mostly, it was this enormous wave of quiet. Like the constant, low hum of a broken appliance finally being unplugged. I bought myself a ridiculous, brightly colored scarf the other day, just because I wanted to. No thought about whether it was practical, or if it would get stained, or if it was too frivolous given the bills. And I caught my reflection, and for the first time in years, I saw… me. Not just the caretaker, not just the exhausted daughter. Just me. Am I a terrible person for finally feeling this lightness? This... almost joy? It’s not like I wish he hadn't existed, or that I hated him, not truly. It’s just that his life was such a weight on mine, and now that it’s lifted, I feel almost guilty for how FREE I feel. Like, what do I even do with all this space now? My hands feel empty. My schedule feels empty. And the silence… it's still so loud sometimes. Anyone else ever find themselves here?