nothing.
My presence was an inconvenience.
I placed Grandma’s photographs beside the bed.
In one, she stood with me in the backyard when I was seven.
In another, she sat at our old kitchen table, laughing as I showed her a drawing of the house I wanted to build someday.
Grandma Evelyn was the only person in my family who had never treated my dreams like a joke.
She used to say, “Never confuse being needed with being loved, sweetheart. Some people only notice the difference when you stop giving.”
