Visiting my father, missing my mother

I'm out again in Berkeley, California visiting my father.  I stay in the house where my parents lived together for 32 years.  I feel my mother's presence in this space.  Her notes, her office, the kitchen she designed.  She would always be awake when I got up, making the coffee, preparing food, getting ready for the day.  Now I'm the first one up, leaving early for shul, returning while my father still sleeps, making the coffee, readying the breakfast.  The more I feel her presence, the more I feel her absence.