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

I froze.

Read it again.

Your parents did not die, she wrote. They went to prison.

The room tilted.

I gripped the edge of the table until my fingers hurt.

I pictured the social worker.

The pastor. The way everyone said “the incident”.

No one said “prison.”

When your grandfather died, he left me the house and some savings, she wrote. I planned to use it for my old age and for you.

Your parents found out. They started talking about “taking over” my accounts “for your benefit.” They brought papers.

They wanted my signature.

I said no.

They did not accept that.

I remembered bits.

Raised voices. My mother crying in the kitchen. My father slamming his hand on the table.

Spending the night at Mrs. Keller’s “for fun.”

Your father forged my name, she wrote. Your mother helped.

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