At the age of 26 I was still a virgin, and my father always warned me, “Stop sitting on the grandfather’s lap and be careful with him.” I never listened to him… until one night Grandpa came up to me and asked me, “Will you sleep by my side tonight?”

It wasn’t something I was ashamed of. I had had some dates, but I had never met anyone I trusted enough to take that step.

Interestingly, my father seemed more concerned about my behavior in the presence of a particular man.

My grandfather.

Grandpa George practically helped me raise myself.

When I was little, I followed him everywhere. Even as an adult, he hugged him, leaned on his shoulder while we watched television and sometimes joking, sitting on his lap for a photo, as I had since I was a child.

Dad didn’t like it.

“Emily, enough is enough,” he said.

I’d laugh.

“Dad, he’s Grandpa.”

“I know perfectly well who he is. Be careful with him.”

That phrase has always bothered me.

Be careful with him?

Grandfather George was seventy-nine