No matter how much he talked, she never answered him, but he knew she was still there. He knew it was like the soldiers he had read about. They would have an arm or a leg blown off, and for days, even weeks after it happened, they could still feel the arm itching, the leg itching, the mother calling.
Pat Cunningham Devoto, Out of the Night That Covers Me
childhood, death, loss, missing, mother, sadness