A year ago today I received a call from a social worker in Baltimore telling me that my sister's two youngest children were in foster care. Two months later, my sister would be dead of a drug overdose.
The last year has been extraordinarily difficult, but I've also found a strength I didn't know I had. It's weird that this kind of adversity makes me feel more connected to my ancestry than anything else has, but there it is.
But I think I've built up enough character. Can things be easy now?
