I stayed beside my father for several minutes.
His hand was still trembling inside mine.
For the first time in my life, I didn't know how to comfort him.
This was the same man who had carried me on his shoulders when I was little.
The same man who fixed my bicycle after I fell.
The same man who never allowed me to see him cry.
And now he was sitting in front of me, struggling to explain something he had hidden for weeks.
"Dad, please talk to me."
He stared at the bathroom floor.
"I didn't know how to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
He swallowed.
"That something is happening to me."
I looked at his hands.
"Is it your hands?"
He nodded slowly.
"And sometimes my legs."
I felt my throat tighten.
"How long?"
He rubbed his fingers together.
"Longer than I wanted to admit."
I closed my eyes briefly.
I was trying very hard not to become angry again.
"Dad, you should have told me."
"I know."
"You could have fallen and seriously hurt yourself."
"I know, sweetheart."
His voice was so quiet that I almost couldn't hear him.
Then he looked toward the doorway.
"Is Emily still outside?"
"She's in her bedroom."
He nodded.
"I don't want her to worry."
I took a breath.
"She's already worried, Dad."
He looked down.
That seemed to hurt him more than anything I had said.
I helped him stand and walked slowly beside him.
His bedroom was only a short distance away, but he needed to hold my arm.
When we reached his bed, he sat down carefully.
I brought him a glass of water.
He held it with both hands.
Even then, I could see the trembling.
I pulled a chair closer.
"Now, tell me about the game."
He stared at the glass.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he finally began.
"It started one evening when I was helping Emily with her bath."
I listened.
"She noticed my hands shaking."
I remembered what Emily had told me.
"She asked why I couldn't hold the little bottle properly."
I swallowed.
"What did you tell her?"
"That I was getting old."
He gave a sad little smile.
"She didn't believe me."
I almost smiled too, despite everything.
Emily had always been observant.
My father continued.
"That evening, I struggled with something in the bathroom. I became dizzy, and I had to sit down."
"Did you fall?"
He nodded.
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"Several days ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked embarrassed.
"I thought it would happen only once."
I stared at him.
He continued explaining that Emily had been nearby when he lost his balance.
She had become frightened.
She had started asking whether he was going to die.
He didn't know what to say.
So he made up a game.
A game that would keep her from watching him struggle when his body wouldn't cooperate.
I looked at him.
"You told a seven-year-old to close her eyes because you were embarrassed?"
He nodded.
"I thought it would make things easier for her."
I leaned back.
I couldn't believe it.
He had been trying to protect her from seeing him weak.
But he had accidentally made her imagine something much worse.
"Did you tell her not to tell me?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
My eyes filled with tears.
"Dad."
"I know. I know I shouldn't have."
He placed the glass on the bedside table.
"I was ashamed."
I looked at him carefully.
"Of what?"
He stared at his hands.
"Of needing help."
Those words stayed with me.
My father had spent his entire life being the person everyone depended on.
He had fixed problems.
Paid bills.
Carried heavy furniture.
Taken care of my mother when she was sick.
He had never been comfortable asking anyone to do something for him.
But age had started taking things away from him.
And instead of telling us, he had decided to hide.
I reached for his hand.
"You don't have to prove anything to us."
He didn't answer.
"You're not a burden, Dad."
His eyes became wet.
I squeezed his fingers.
"And you don't need to hide your pain from Emily."
He nodded.
I asked him whether he had been experiencing other symptoms.
He admitted that his hands had been shaking more often.
Sometimes he felt weak.
Sometimes he became dizzy when standing.
He had also noticed that simple movements took longer than before.
I listened carefully.
I wasn't going to guess what was wrong.
He needed a doctor.
That was the first thing I knew for certain.
"Dad, we're going to the hospital."
He immediately shook his head.
"There's no need."
"Yes, there is."
"I'm fine."
I looked directly into his eyes.
"You just told me you fell in the bathroom."
He became quiet.
I stood up.
"I'm not arguing about this."
For once, he didn't argue either.
A few minutes later, I went to check on Emily.
She was sitting on her bed.
Her stuffed rabbit was beside her.
When she saw me, she immediately asked:
"Is Grandpa angry?"
I sat beside her.
"No, sweetheart."
"Did I do something wrong?"
I pulled her into my arms.
"Absolutely not."
She looked at me.
"Is Grandpa going to be okay?"
I brushed her hair away from her face.
"We're going to help him."
She nodded.
Then she whispered:
"Can I still sit with him tomorrow?"
My heart broke a little.
"Of course you can."
She hugged me.
I kissed the top of her head.
And for the first time since she had told me about the secret game, I understood why she had been so frightened.
She wasn't afraid of her grandfather.
She was afraid of losing him.
That evening, I returned to my father's room.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at an old photograph.
It was a picture of him, my mother, and me when I was about eight years old.
He noticed me looking.
"Your mother took that picture."
I sat beside him.
"I remember."
He smiled faintly.
"She always said you were the stubborn one."
I laughed softly.
"She wasn't wrong."
For a moment, we were simply a father and daughter remembering someone we loved.
Then he looked at me.
"Your mother would have known what to do."
I held his hand.
"We'll figure it out, Dad."
He nodded.
But I could tell he was still frightened.
And so was I.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Emily Asked Whether Grandpa Would Still Tell Her Bedtime Stories, and My Answer Made Me Realize How Much We Had All Been Hiding
My Little Girl Asked Me to Keep a Secret From Grandpa, But What She Told Me That Night Changed Everything
Part 5 of 20
