“This is Dr. William from St. Westminster Hospital in Eirchester. I’m very sorry to inform you… your grandpa, Mr. Austin Kennedy passed away early this morning.”
He hesitated before continuing. “His final wish… was for you to attend his funeral.”
I heard the sound of papers being shuffled on the other end. “He also left behind a letter for you. And some personal items. If you’re willing, we can arrange a flight to the UK. Everything will be taken care of.”
I caught sight of myself in the window—hair tangled, clothes stained, eyes red. A wreck.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Long ago, I’d sworn I’d never have anything to do with my grandfather again.
When Mom got sick, he and the rest of the family stood by and did nothing. I promised myself then—I’d cut ties for good.
But right now, all I wanted was an excuse—a reason to get far away from here, to escape everything.
I didn’t go back to the hospital in the days that followed. I just quietly started packing.
Every time I picked up something Jimmy had given me—the faded scarf, the chipped hair clip, the knockoff shoes already coming apart at the seams. It almost impressed me, how much effort he’d put into finding such cheap junk from street stalls.