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

smelled faintly of morning dew and jet fuel as we loaded the car. Grandpa wore his navy cardigan—his “travel sweater,” he used to call it—buttoned wrong, with the sleeves hanging too long.

He clutched a framed photo of Grandma in one hand, and my wrist in the other. Dad kept checking his watch, anxious to be on schedule. Mom kept checking her reflection continue reading …