I raised my 7 grandchildren alone after their parents’ funeral — 10 years later, my youngest granddaughter handed me a box and whispered, “Grandma, Mom and Dad didn’t die that night.”

I tried to explain, but every time I opened my mouth, I started crying.

After the funeral, the children stayed with me.

At first, everyone assumed it was temporary, until the courts could arrange something more permanent.

But there was nobody else prepared to take seven children.

Their other grandparents had passed away, and the few relatives we had couldn’t manage such a large family.

I was sixty-two, widowed, and living in a small two-bedroom house.

When the social worker asked whether I would consider becoming their legal guardian, I answered before she’d finished her question.

“Of course. They’re my grandchildren.”

I didn’t know how we would manage.

I only knew I wasn’t going to let those children be separated after everything they’d already lost.

We moved into Silas and Bree’s house because it had enough bedrooms.

Even then, money was a constant problem.