The Brunswick Saga
A story of loss & grief
The free-to-read rough draft
It was nighttime when Mom turned her key in the lock to let herself in. I’d fallen asleep on the couch, my arm around Kaleb, when my youngest brother nudged me awake. Mom was pacing in front of the door, her thumbnail in her mouth as she chewed on it. I was too tired to confront her, letting my eyes droop closed as I listened to her feet pace back and forth until they had traveled to the stairs and out of earshot.
There are things we can’t control in life. Too many things. Like, when a parent dies in a freak accident. Or a parent leaves. Or being the oldest in a large family with no parent. It only took twenty-four hours for all three of those things to happen to me. I had zero control over any of it. The word “no” had lost all meaning.
My dad was my hero. I know that’s cliché, but it’s true. He held my family together even when it felt like it was all falling apart. He was so good. Everyone who ever met him fell in love with him—in the platonic sense of it all. People called him Ace for a reason, and it wasn’t because that was his name.
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