Three Months to Live, One Husband to Lose

My memory has been bad since I was a child.

The year I turned ten, I forgot to send my mother a Mother's Day greeting.

Not long after, she divorced my father, took my sister, and vanished without a trace.

I cried and begged forgiveness, and my father, frantic and worn down, shoved me away.

"Your mom doesn't love you anymore. You could cry your eyes blind and she still wouldn't come back!"

At twelve, I forgot to buy my father his sleeping pills.

By the time the police came for me, his body had bloated in the water. All he left behind was a farewell letter.