He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

Sundays stopped altogether. He was moved into the guest room upstairs, the one at the end of the hall. He was out of sight. He was out of the way.

But I would sneak up there sometimes, especially during my high school finals, when the crushing pressure of perfection made me feel as though I were suffocating. Grandpa never asked about my grades, my SAT continue reading …