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Christmas presents I’d continued buying and storing, hoping against hope that someday I’d be allowed to give them. The last real conversation I’d had with James played in my memory like a broken record. He’d called me three days after his father’s funeral.
His voice cold and unfamiliar. “Mom. Victoria thinks it would be best if we took some space.
“James, they need their family right now. They need stability and love.”
“They have that. They have Victoria and me.”
“What about me?
I’m their grandmother.”
“Victoria is their mother. She knows what’s best for them.”
Victoria knows what’s best. Those five words had haunted me for over a decade.
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