A Goth Girl Visited My 73-Year-Old Mom Every Saturday—After Her Funeral, She Handed Me a Key and Revealed My Mom’s Final Secret

not exactly taking your own advice.”

Mom gave a short laugh.

“No. It isn’t.”

Raven’s voice softened.

“Then why keep telling me to call my mother?”

“Because you can be right, or you can have family, Raven. Sometimes you don’t get both.”

“That’s rich.”

“I know.”

My hand was already on the kitchen door.

I could’ve walked in.

I could’ve said Elaine’s name and forced continue reading …