**Callan
“You don't have to come, Dad," I said, glaring over my shoulder.
My father was huffing about taking Grandma back to the nursing home. It wasn't that he didn't think she belonged there; we both knew with the way her mind was fading that she was better off under the care of professionals. Instead, he just didn't want to go to a place where death happened pretty much every day.
My mother's unexpected passing had really done a number on him.
“That's right, dear," Grandma scowled. “You don't have to come with. Of course, if you refuse to see me anywhere that reminds you of death then I guess you'll never be seeing me again."
For as often as she was confused, Grandma was pretty sharp, too.
“Ma..." Dad groaned. There was nothing like a sarcastic, guilt-trip-fueled comment from
