My mom was a babe back in the day. I find her beautiful now too, all linen and long necklaces and a waterfall of silver hair. Back in the day, though, she was the poster child for ’60s-era swag. She ironed her dark brown, waist-length hair—with a clothing iron—to get it silky, shiny and straight. She wore short skirts over long legs and tank tops just snug enough. She drank Sprite from the can and captained her high school cheer squad. And yes, she wore white lipstick. She kept it around long enough that I played with it as a child, dressing up in her pearls and gowns too.

When my mom’s mom died in February 2016, my born family of four—mom, dad, sister, me—took a collective step toward death. My grandma was my last remaining grandparent. Save the unforeseeable, my parents will go next. This makes me think. About texts I fail to return, about the fact that I’ve lived states away since graduating college in 2004. About what all that means, and how it’s perceived.

My parents, having learned from theirs, are in the slow process of clearing out their basement. Years ago, it housed a lifetime of memories. Books from my childhood, board games, dance costumes, Easter dresses. Bibles. Embroidered cotton napkins. Journals, mine and my mom’s. All the salvaged things that tell stories words never could.

I wish they hadn’t tossed everything. But I know why they did. They didn’t want me and my sister to have to wade through box after box of…stuff. Stuff. They envisioned estate sales preceded by long Sunday afternoons in a basement, weeding through things that would remind us that, oh yeah, our parents are dead.

For my parents, the stuff was just that. But for me, the stuff meant memories. Things I kinda can’t believe got pitched into the garbage like leftovers kept in the fridge a day too long.

Then, I think: it’s like a song, your favorite song. You’ve haven’t heard it in awhile. But the chorus kicks in, and you pick it back up. Before you know it, you see you never actually forgot. Then you realize, you never actually could.