Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

I knew it sounded stupid, but when I lost my mother, she was alone. She’d died alone, by herself, and I couldn’t imagine that happening with my father.

Out of all the prayers I’d prayed, I never thought I’d receive a man like him. We didn’t believe in the same God, but still, that was okay. We didn’t always love the same things, but still, that was okay. We didn’t always agree, but still…that was okay. Because love—real love—didn’t mean always holding the same beliefs. It didn’t mean we had to see eye to eye on every subject. Yet what it did mean, what real love stood for was a mutual understanding. A respect for one another’s dreams and hopes and wishes and fears.