Alexi missed her.
To make matters worse, her birthday was coming up. Every year, without discussing it with each other, Alexi and their dad made chicken gnocchi soup, her favorite dish, and ate it silently together. The first couple years they had tried to talk, but it never ended well. Alexi learned quickly to not ruin the moment of remembrance.
This year Alexi thought harder about that tradition than they normally did. It was easy to blame their dad for their stunted ability to communicate their emotions, but they had allowed themself to get like that. They had always been able to talk to their mom about anything when they were a kid. She had such a good humor about everything, right up until her diagnosis. Alexi pondered over the years whether that was also the day they started to bottle things up so she wouldn’t be worried about them too. It was such a tumultuous time that it was hard to say, and it wasn’t exactly something they could ask their dad about.