The first person I called after my dad left for work was my grandmother, who, of course, had the same eager reaction as my father. However, speaking to her made my heart only ache a little for my long lost mother. The pit in my stomach started to grow as I thought of her for the first time in a while. I had no memories of her, my family hardly talked about her, she had missed my entire life. Yet still, somehow, it hurt to know she was out there somewhere entirely disconnected from me. Would she have been excited for me? Would she have even cared? Is this what she would have wanted for me?
“Gramma, how come you and my dad never talk about my mom?” I asked without thinking and the line instantly fell silent. An oh too familiar silence that came every time I brought up my mother, the woman t
