My siblings couldn’t wait to leave when they got older. Matthew went first, then Jake, Kirk, and finally Jessica. They relocated to different cities, living their individual lives.
None of them looked back.
But I stayed.
My siblings couldn’t wait to leave.
After graduating from college, I moved back in to care for Grandpa. He was much older by then. Slower, but still stubborn.
“You don’t have to stay,” he’d tell me while we watched the evening news together.
“I want to,” I’d always reply.
And I meant it, because Grandpa never treated me like a burden or made me feel as if I owed him.
I wish I could say the same about the others.
They never let go of what happened.
“You don’t have to stay.”
***
I was told that our parents died when I was two years old, strapped into my car seat. A truck ran a red light, causing the accident. I lived. Our parents didn’t.
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