We start our lives in thrall to great authority figures, no matter how flawed they may be. A child is the story of a parent. Your parents write you. You may hope that you grow up and older and become your own person, but the memories of later life are less pronounced than the memories of childhood. As time wears on, you find yourself losing memories in reverse order and the person that you are slowly peels back to reveal the child that your parent wrote.
You hope you’ve moved past that, that you left it behind and become something else, something better. But the end of so many lives is turning back into the child of long-dead parents.