Chapter 2 - Lizzy Became My Mother’s Child After Megan Died
My sister Megan was thirty-one when she died.
Not in some mysterious accident.
Not because of Gloria.
Not because of a family secret.
Cancer.
Acute myeloid leukemia.
Fast.
Cruel.
She went from:
working,
parenting,
complaining about daycare pickup
to:
hospital rooms,
chemotherapy,
bone-marrow discussions
in less than three months.
Lizzy was four.
Her biological father, Caleb Rhodes, had never been a stable parent.
He and Megan had separated before Lizzy turned one.
He drifted between:
jobs,
states,
relationships.
He paid support inconsistently.
Saw Lizzy:
occasionally.
When Megan became seriously ill, Caleb said he was not in a position to take:
full custody.
For once, he was honest.
Gloria stepped in.
My mother had always been good during:
emergencies.
She made lists.
Packed bags.
Remembered:
medications,
phone chargers,
parking validation.
While I sat beside Megan crying, Mom was the one calling:
insurance,
school,
daycare.
She moved into Megan’s apartment.
Took Lizzy to preschool.
Cooked.
Bathed her.
Stayed awake when Lizzy had nightmares.
I was grateful.
When Megan realized treatment was failing, she asked:
“What happens to Lizzy?”
I could not answer.
Gloria did.
“She comes with me.”
Megan looked at Mom.
Then at me.
I said:
“That makes sense.”
It did.
Mom owned her house.
Retired from thirty-two years of administrative work with the county.
Stable pension.
No mortgage except a small home-equity balance.
Same school district where Megan and I grew up.
I lived in:
a one-bedroom apartment downtown.
Worked sixty-hour weeks as regional merchandising manager for a grocery chain.
Traveled twice a month.
No child experience.
No partner.
No plan.
So after Megan died, Gloria petitioned for guardianship.
Caleb did not contest.
I supported:
her.
The court approved the arrangement after the required:
home study,
background checks,
paperwork.
Nobody “gave” Lizzy away casually.
There was process.
At the time, I thought:
We did the responsible thing.
And initially, maybe we did.
Gloria was loving.
Patient.
She took Lizzy to grief counseling.
Kept photographs of Megan in her bedroom.
Made cupcakes on:
Megan’s birthday.
For almost a year, Lizzy appeared:
stable.
Then something shifted.
So slowly I convinced myself:
May you like
nothing had.
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