person I knew.
Each time
that asked Dad what he meant, he refused to explain it.
“He’s getting older. That’s it.”
But sometimes his expression suggested that it wasn’t just that.
Grandpa noticed, too.
One Thanksgiving, Dad saw me sitting on the arm of Grandpa’s chair with his legs partially on his lap.
“Emily. Move.”
Grandpa looked away immediately.
I got up angry.
Later, I confronted Dad in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with you?”
His response left me stunned.
“Someday you will understand why I keep telling you.”
After that, I started wondering if there would be any family secret that no one would want to tell me.
Three months later, Grandpa came to our house
Grandfather George was seventy-nine
was upstairs.
Grandpa looked unusually serious.
