Her funeral was held in the small church she loved. The room was full of neighbors, former patients, hospital coworkers, painting classmates, and people whose lives she had touched.
My parents and aunt never came.
I stayed in Tuloma for good and became a doctor at the same hospital where Grandma had once worked. Her marigold painting hangs in my office.
Sometimes patients tell me it looks cheerful.
I smile and say it belonged to someone very special.
I never contacted my parents again. I don’t hate them. I simply understand now that love is shown through actions, not words.
My grandmother taught me that family is not always the people who share your blood. Family is the person who stays when everyone else walks away.
And Grandma Hazel stayed for me.
So when it became my turn, I stayed for her.
