And eventually, I learned to live with that truth.
Or at least I thought I had.
Part 2 — The Man Who Stayed
If Julian was the man who disappeared, my grandfather was the man who never did.
Grandpa Henry had raised me since I was ten years old.
My parents died in a car accident on a rain-covered road.
One day I was somebody’s daughter.
The next, I was standing in my grandfather’s hallway with two suitcases and a stuffed rabbit tucked beneath my arm.
Grandpa never tried to replace my parents.
He simply made sure I was never alone.
He packed lunches badly.
Learned how to braid hair even worse.
Sat through school concerts.
Taught me to change a tire.
Waited outside my first job interview.
