The courtroom doors closed but the confrontation wasn't over. Dad wanted to speak with us. We approached him cautiously. “How could you say those things?” I said. “Dolores loved us.” He looked at me, unflinching, eyes cold and vacant. “She didn't love you three. I was closest to her,” he said. I recoiled. “That's not true, Dad.” We were too young to grasp his manipulation. We'd recently watched her die, our grandmother in all but name. Still raw. And here he stood, incredulously, rewriting our grief to claim her estate. Walking away, I felt it: He believed we were unlovable.
Christopher Wiley-Smith is a writer based in Oregon. His memoir, In His Absence, explores the complexities of siblinghood, loss, and inherited silence. gravatar.com/perfectiondutifullye40aa4f6e1 catsgraces9.substack.com Instagram: @catgraces9