I paid for my parents to fly out and see me for the first time in four years. They stayed at my sister’s house 30 minutes away. I set the table every night for a week. They never came. On their last day, Mom texted: “Maybe next time, sweetie!” I was the bank. Not the daughter. So I shut it down.

I listed the mortgage supplement, the prescription account, the roadside assistance, the streaming bundles, and the childcare payments for Hannah. At the bottom, I typed a single sentence in bold: Stop funding people who do not show up for you.

On the fifth day, my mother called. She sounded bright, airy, and entirely unburdened. “Sweetie, we might continue reading …