My mother died when I was eight.
Barely a month later, my father introduced me to a woman named Elaine and said she would be living with us as his wife.
I was furious.
To me, it felt like he had replaced Mom before I had even learned how to grieve.
Elaine tried to be kind, but I rejected everything she did. I stopped speaking to her unless necessary and moved out the week I turned eighteen.
Years passed.
Then my father died.
At the funeral, Elaine asked me to stay behind.