My father isn’t much of a talker when it comes to his feelings in general, and he gets particularly quiet every year around this day. But my mother is different. She wants, maybe even needs, to talk about it, to remember and memorialize Casey. I get that, and why it’s important to her, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to do. But after what my parents went through losing Casey so young, I’m the only kid they have left, so I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize our relationship.

Especially not today.

“Anyway,” my mother continues, breaking the long silence. “I was thinking it might be nice if you could come over for dinner next Tuesday or something. It would be great to spend the evening together as a family. I know you’re busy with school, but your father and I miss you.”

“Of course.”

“Great,” she says, her voice cracking slightly, although I can’t tell if it’s with relief that I said yes or something else. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. It feels like just yesterday.”

“I know. Sometimes I swear I can hear him calling after me on campus, like he came to visit or something.”

My mother sniffles, and it breaks my heart wide open. “My sweet Casey. I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me that he’d be out of college by now too.”

“Probably not in law school though,” I say, and she laughs.

“No, I don’t think he had the same brain for that line of work that you do. But now that you mention it, I wonder what he would’ve studied?”

“Knowing Casey, I’m gonna guess engineering. He was always tearing his toys and stuff apart just to see how they worked.”

She laughs, but this time it’s laced with joy as she reminisces. “That reminds me, do you remember the one Christmas he broke the brand-new video game controller we bought him and tried to fix it himself?”

“How could I forget? He broke it by slamming it against the floor when I beat him at the game.”

“That’s right!” My mother chuckles. “He was always so competitive. He must have gotten that from your father.”

“Maybe, but I guess that means he also got your brains, because he fixed the thing somehow, and Dad has never been good with that stuff.”

“Oh god, no. It still surprises me when your dad manages to correctly change the batteries in the TV remote,” she says, and we share a laugh before the line goes quiet for a few moments. Then she sighs contentedly. “It’s good to hear your voice and your laughter today, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I needed a little levity myself.”