always cry when you’re trying to be brave.”
A broken laugh escaped me.
He was right.
“You once asked me why I kept calling you my granddaughter even though we both knew you weren’t.
I didn’t answer because I was afraid you’d stop coming.
The truth is simple.
You became my granddaughter the moment you started worrying about whether I had eaten lunch.
Blood makes relatives.
Love makes family.”
I couldn’t see the page anymore through my tears.
Then I reached the final lines.
“Take care of your mother.
Take care of your brother.
Finish your degree.
And when life finally becomes easier, find someone else who is lonely and sit beside them.
Don’t pretend to be their granddaughter.
Just be kind.
That’s all I ever wanted from you.”
I lowered the letter.
Patrice was crying now.
For the first time since I’d met her, she didn’t look angry.
She
