Daddy’s Little Mortis — “I Always Miss You”

He says, “I miss you, man. I always miss you.”

Her mouth moves with his.

For a moment, it looks as though his voice is being spoken by her. The words arrive, and she is already there—feeling them, forming them, recognising something she carries too.

That is the way into Daddy’s Little Mortis.

In his reflection ahead of “Caskets”, he speaks about losing friends and how those losses changed his understanding of death. He describes a circle: breath moving in and out, the tide returning to the ocean. A life whose ending leaves something beautiful for the people who remember it.

She listens. Some days, that way of seeing things gives her somewhere softer to place her grief.

She can still miss someone and find comfort in what remains. A phrase she remembers. A laugh that returns unexpectedly. A song that brings them close for a few minutes.

Daddy’s Little Mortis lives somewhere in that tenderness. The little girl inside her, carrying a name that holds both affection and death, learning how to sit with everything it brings up.

She protects the connection fiercely because the message reaches somewhere words do not always reach. It gives her a way to approach feelings she has struggled to hold. The why behind it is personal: what she hears, what it awakens, what she is learning to understand about herself.

And now she is learning to hear the peace in it, too.

She hears him describe a life as a beautiful song, and begins to think about what she remembers beyond its ending. The ordinary moments. The ridiculous ones. Everything that made someone themselves.

She wants to tell those stories again.

When her mouth moves with his, perhaps she is finding a voice for her own missing. A few words she can finally let out.

Then comes the breath after them.

She is learning to stay for that part. To let the feeling settle. To carry the message into her own day, where there is still a window to open, someone to care for, a little life asking for her attention.

Daddy’s Little Mortis is finding peace slowly.

There is room for the missing.

There is room for her to keep living, too.