My Grandma Raised Me Alone After I Became an Orphan – Three Days After Her Death, I Learned She Lied to Me My Entire Life

And just like that, I was six again.

When I “became an orphan.”

It was a rainy day. Adults talked in low voices. A social worker told me there’d been “a bad car crash.”

“Instant,” she said.

“They didn’t feel a thing.”

I remember staring at the stains on the carpet instead of her face.

Then Grandma walked in.

Tiny. Gray bun. Brown coat that smelled like cold air and laundry soap.

She knelt down so we were eye level.

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