unload their problems, I finally understood something.
Grief was heavy.
Being used was heavier.
When Ernest became ill, I sold the wedding earrings he had given me to pay for his medicine.
When Austin lost his job, I emptied my savings because he said he only needed temporary help.
When Chloe had her baby, I spent three months sleeping on their couch and waking for bottles while she told everyone I was “so lucky to have purpose.”
Yet at Ernest’s funeral, my son didn’t embrace me.
He looked past the
