My name is Theresa, and I am sixty-three years old.
I’ve been a widow for most of my adult life.
When my husband died, my daughter Mary Lou was still small enough to fit on my hip. From that day forward, it was just the two of us against the world.
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My name is Theresa, and I am sixty-three years old.
I’ve been a widow for most of my adult life.
When my husband died, my daughter Mary Lou was still small enough to fit on my hip. From that day forward, it was just the two of us against the world.
I was seventeen when I learned exactly where I stood in my stepfather’s eyes. Not as a daughter. Not as family. Just an inconvenience.…