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

out. I stepped back.

“We’re done here.”

“Elena, if you walk away…” Dad began to threaten, but I did. I walked.

Out of the terminal. Into the cold morning light. My coat barely wrapped around both of us.

I hailed the first cab I saw and helped Grandpa inside, his hands still shaking. We drove for miles in silence, the airport shrinking behind us like a continue reading …