I see myself in what you described. My parents aren’t dead, but they separated when I was 12. My mom was an alcoholic that couldn’t keep a job and wasn’t there most of the time and my father was absent.
So starting from 12 years old, I had to cook, clean and do the best I could with what I had. Sometimes, there wasn’t much food.
It fucked me up(generalized anxiety with bouts of light depression). I realize that now. I might never feel normal and that’s fine but I sometimes wish I had somewhat of a present parent in my life.