Grief has a way of exposing the truth.
When my mother passed away, I thought our family would come together, but instead, my father erased her memory without hesitation. The cruelest blow came when he got rid of Peanut, my mother’s beloved dog, just days after the funeral. That moment shattered any illusion I had left about him. It wasn’t just an act of cruelty—it was proof of his selfishness, laid bare for me to see.
Desperate to undo his decision, I searched tirelessly for Peanut, driving from shelter to shelter until I finally found her. But it was too late. My father had legally surrendered her, and she was already promised to a new owner. I stood there, helpless, as the last connection to my mother slipped away. It was then I realized the painful truth—I had no place in a home where love was so easily discarded.