No one asked how I was holding up.
I was background.
The daughter who had been gone too long to count.
The real show began after the final prayer.
Most people were already collecting their coats when Marcus returned to the podium.
“If I could have everyone’s attention for just one more moment.”
The room quieted.
Mom gave him a small, practiced nod from the front row—the kind a director gives an actor who knows his lines.
“Our family has been discussing what comes next,” Marcus said. “And we’ve made a difficult decision. We’re selling the family home.”
Murmurs spread through the room.
My Aunt Patricia pressed a hand to her chest.
“The house on Maple?” she whispered. “Richard loved that house.”
“I know,” Marcus said, shaking his head with convincing sorrow. “But it’s time for a fresh start. Mom doesn’t want to live there alone with all those memories, and the upkeep is too much for her. We discussed it as a family. Mom, me, and Briana all agreed.”
I started to rise.
