Forty days after we buried my father, my family gathered to divide everything he had left behind. They claimed his house, his SUV, his savings, and even my grandmother’s gold as if I didn’t exist. By the time they finally looked at me, the only thing left was a battered red wardrobe with peeling paint and a broken leg propped up by a brick. Everyone laughed when I said I’d take it. They had no idea that old piece of furniture was the one thing my mother desperately hoped I would never bring home.
My father had been gone exactly forty days. Before that, he spent seventy-three days in the regional hospital. During those seventy-three days, I called my brother, Brandon, more times than I could count. He always claimed he was buried under some massive project at his corporate job. I called my sister, Ashley, as well, … Read more