Buried Before I Even Died

Summary

Mom and Dad told me there was good money to be made down south in Atlanta, but coming back to visit would cost half a month’s wages in bus fare.

"It’s fine," I told them. "I’ll stay home and take care of Grandpa."

I told myself that lie for eight years.

The night Grandpa passed away, I sat on the edge of his cot with my cracked phone pressed to my ear, dialing their numbers until the sun came up. One was disconnected. The other went straight to an automated recording informing me the line was no longer in service.