My Stepdad Raised Me From the Age of Four—Then, in a Hospital Bed, He Whispered Something That Left Me in Tears

kind of laughter that had once frightened Frank.

The same laughter that had eventually taught him to stay.

I placed the star cutter beside the stove when we finished.

It would be there next Sunday, and every Sunday after that.

Not because grief had disappeared.

Because love had finally grown large enough to carry it.

It would be there next Sunday.

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