After a year, Grant said we needed to go home.
I didn’t want to leave Cairo.
Leaving felt like burying Tara there.
But I was exhausted.
I barely slept.
I barely ate unless someone placed food directly in front of me.
Eventually, we returned to Ohio without our daughter.
Grant and I did not survive the loss.
Our marriage collapsed.
Yet somehow he flourished.
Grant built an entire career around grief.
He wrote essays.
He gave speeches.
He published manuscripts.
People admired him. They called him brave. They called him strong.
Meanwhile, I built my life around waiting.
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