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Shutting my eyes, bowing my head, I was suddenly nine again, my life shattered after the death of my mother and disappearance of my father. Feeling abandoned, thrown to the wind, my emotions had cycled between fear and rage for the entire train ride from Starksville, North Carolina, to Washington, DC. My childhood up to that point had felt like being in a rowboat on the sea in the middle of a typhoon. Chaos and thrill. Pain and loss. Promises made but not kept.

How could life have done this to our family? What had we done so wrong? Those questions had haunted and taunted me the entire trip.

But from that first day, Nana Mama had welcomed me and my three brothers, Blake, Aaron, and Charlie, into her home. She’d given us fried pork chops with onions, green beans with bacon, and corn bread fresh from the oven. Coming from a home where our mom was often too strung out to feed us, my older brothers and I thought we’d gone to heaven.

“Do you always eat like this?” I’d asked.

“I try to cook good food, especially for dinner,” Nana Mama told us, smiling. “Good food means every dinner is a celebration of life. And even in tough times like these, I believe in celebrating life.”

Later that evening, when the four of us boys went upstairs for bed, she made sure we brushed our teeth and changed into our pajamas.

“You’ll all start school soon,” she told us when we were in our bedroom and ready for bed. “We will buy you school clothes tomorrow.”

“Do we have to wear a tie?” my brother Blake asked.

“To church on Sundays.”

“I hate ties.”

“Unluckily, you don’t make the rules, young Mr. Blake,” she’d said and laughed. “Look, a grandmother is supposed to be able to spoil her grandkids. But my job is different. My job is to teach you well so you grow up to be fine young men who would make your mother and father proud.”

“I’m not proud of my mother and father,” Aaron announced a little hotly.

“I’m not proud of them either,” my grandmother said softly. “But that does not have to overwhelm the good memories you have. Because you do have positive memories. So if you’re going to blame them for your bad times, you also have to give them credit for the good ones.”

My brothers and I said nothing.

“Well, this is something you will do every night as long as you live in my house,” she said firmly. “On your knees, young men. And no grumbling.”

We did as we were told. Once we were down there, I expected her to lead us in prayer.

Instead, she said, “I want you to close your eyes and thank God for three good things that happened to you in the past few days.”

“Three?” I asked.

“That’s a lot,” Charlie said.

“It’s a beginning,” Nana Mama said, firm again.

“Out loud?” Blake said suspiciously.

“Let’s try quietly for tonight.”

I’d closed my eyes, not sure what to be thankful for. Then I remembered dinner and felt grateful for that. I thought about the way Nana had greeted us at the door, making us feel wanted, and I was happy about that. Then I got stuck. Well, our train arrived on time and didn’t crash. That was a good thing, right? I mean, I’m still alive, and Nana Mama’s house is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed. And now it’s my home.

“Alex?”

Startled, I opened my eyes to see Dr. Ames walking into the chapel, looking exhausted.

My heart started racing again when I saw her grim face. I feared the worst.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Dr. Ames said, and she smiled. “Your grandmother made it through the surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain.”

“Oh God, thank you, Sydney.”

She hugged me, said, “My pleasure. And you’ve got the neurosurgeon to thank too; I just scrubbed in. Anyway, she’s in recovery, and we’re running the drugs that will keep her safely in a medically induced coma. And then comes the hardest part.”

“What’s that?”