We are who we are

Mom & Dad, do you hear me? I know you do. You visit me as birds, usually whenever I’m hiking. You’re identical, like twins, yet are distinguished and separated from each other on respective branches. I like to see you separate—rather than entwined—so that I can speak to each of you as separate identities.

When I was growing up through to a year or so before you died, you were a hybrid person together as one. It was hard for me to distinguish the feelings I was having about the loss of each of you.