therapy.
I helped Jessica with her college applications, co-signed her student housing lease, and when her tuition bill came—$12,000 a year after financial aid—I paid that too.
Nobody asked me.
That mattered.
Nobody ever sat me down and said, “Myra, you need to carry this family now.”
I simply did it because Dad was gone and somebody had to.
And in my head, I kept hearing him say, “Take care of them.”
I didn’t realize that a promise I had made to a dead man inside my own
