Death brings choices

When you’ve run away from home you can never truly run away.

You ran away at 18, and aside from a short period of time in your twenties, you’ve not looked back.

The news of your grandmother’s death wafts its way to you eventually. You’ve learned that your grandmother died on Friday, the mother of your father. Your father left your life when you were a little girl. You didn’t have a lot of involvement with this grandmother, but you did have contact with your aunt, your father’s sister.

The family expects you to attend. You can’t even bring yourself to call them “your family.” The concept is an abomination to your brain.

There is no way that you are going. For a moment of insanity you considered it, and looked up flights on Kayak. The cheapest flight was $890! But you know in the back of your mind that if the flight had been free you would have declined. The search was just a formality for your brain.

Though you are not going, you have that shaky, twitchy feeling. You know that thousands of miles away that they’re shaking their heads when they speak of you. And though you ran away 20 years ago, they still have a hold on you.