I keep dreaming I have gerbils down the basement that I have forgotten to feed, and fear going down there, where I think I'll find them mummified, starved. Of course, the fact that my mom DID starve herself is probably at least partially related to that, the feeling that I have of being responsible in part for it, though there was little I could do, really, short of forcing her to eat, putting a tube down her throat. How awful that would have been... probably far more traumatic for all involved.
But I keep thinking I have to go to the house, to call them, to look after them. Today, when I gave up dad's worms to their adoptive mom, I let go another vestige of him. Of course, I had no use for the worms, not being a gardener. They went to a better place.