The next few days were quieter.
My father continued attending his appointments.
Some mornings were comfortable.
Others were difficult.
We learned not to expect every day to be the same.
Emily had also developed a little routine.
Every morning, she brought Grandpa a drawing.
Sometimes it was a flower.
Sometimes it was a house.
Once, she drew a very large sandwich and announced that it was his medicine.
My father laughed.
"I think the doctor would prefer something different."
Emily giggled.
One evening, I found him looking through the old photo album.
He had placed the wedding photograph beside him.
I sat down.
"Looking at Mom again?"
He nodded.
"She was beautiful."
"She really was."
He touched the photograph.
"I remember this day."
I smiled.
"Was it a good wedding?"
He laughed.
"Your mother almost missed it."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"She couldn't find her shoes."
I started laughing.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
He smiled.
"Everyone was waiting. I was standing there wondering whether I was going to marry a woman who couldn't find her own shoes."
I laughed harder.
He continued.
"Then she came running into the room, wearing two different shoes."
I covered my mouth.
"Mom did that?"
He nodded.
"She laughed so much that she nearly fell over."
We both laughed.
For a few minutes, the room felt full of her again.
Then my father became quiet.
"I wish she could see Emily."
I looked toward the stairs.
"She would be so proud of her."
He nodded.
"She would."
He closed the album.
Then he looked at me.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Of course."
"When your mother was alive, I never thought much about getting old."
I listened.
"We had plans. We thought we would travel. We thought we would spend more time with the family."
His voice became softer.
"Then she got sick."
I took his hand.
He continued.
"After she died, I didn't know what to do with myself."
I understood.
He had moved into our home because we thought it would help him.
But perhaps he had needed more than a new bedroom and a place at the dinner table.
He had needed to feel useful again.
He had needed to belong.
And when his body began changing, he became frightened that even that would disappear.
I looked at him.
"You still belong here, Dad."
He nodded.
"I know."
I squeezed his hand.
"And you don't have to be the person who fixes everything."
He smiled.
"Your mother would have agreed."
That evening, Emily came downstairs carrying her stuffed rabbit.
She saw the photograph.
"Can I see Grandma?"
My father opened the album.
He showed her several pictures.
Emily asked questions about every one.
What was Grandma's favorite food?
Did she like animals?
Could she sing?
Was she funny?
My father answered each question.
Sometimes he laughed.
Sometimes he became quiet.
But he never asked Emily to stop asking.
When they finished, Emily placed her rabbit beside the photograph.
"Now Grandma can watch Bunny too."
My father smiled.
"That's a good idea."
Later that night, I helped him prepare for bed.
He looked at me.
"Thank you for letting me stay here."
I frowned.
"Dad, why do you keep saying that?"
He looked embarrassed.
"I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you."
I sat beside him.
"You are not a guest in this house."
He nodded.
"Sometimes I forget."
I looked at the photograph.
"This is your family too."
He smiled.
Then he reached for my hand.
"I know."
I kissed his forehead.
"Get some rest."
As I left, he called me back.
"Sweetheart?"
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow, can we all have breakfast together?"
I smiled.
"Of course."
He nodded.
"Good."
I turned off the light.
Downstairs, Emily's drawing was still sitting beside the family photograph.
The words were simple.
WE STAY TOGETHER.
And for the first time, I believed my father was beginning to understand them.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: When Emily Asked Grandpa to Read Their Favorite Story One More Time, I Realized Our Family Had Finally Learned to Stop Being Afraid
My Little Girl Asked Me to Keep a Secret From Grandpa, But What She Told Me That Night Changed Everything
Part 18 of 20
