My jaw dropped, and my tongue fell out when I realized the book contained Mom’s intimate letters. The inscription on the cover literally made my face blush. My PopPop was my father!
Jesus! I’d have to drag myself to a vigil for my sanity after learning this!
How many ways had they told me we were normal and threw up a barrier surrounding our past? Mom’s death would have to be the catalyst for the truth.
Slowly, I made the climb up the main stairs towards Nana’s room, holding the memento tightly.
How could she have kept this from me?