Wait a moment while I remove the foot from my mouth.

That Wednesday was the day that proved me wrong. My grandmother woke my father and me up at about 5am to take her to the hospice to sit with my grandfather. I felt like I had risen from the dead, having barely fallen asleep just four hours prior. We got there at about 6am just because it took us so long to get going. The minute we arrived I headed straight for the recliner so I could try to catch up on rest. A few hours later, one of my stepaunts came, followed shortly thereafter by another. They invited me to come along to get breakfast with them, and I obliged them because I had only eaten a small bowl of cereal earlier in the morning. We all just sat around making small talk and in that moment I actually felt like I belonged.

I was so wrong about them and I feel terrible about having judged them. It's a shame that it was on the day my grandfather died that I realized that.