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

I found him in his chair by the window, hands resting on a worn blanket, the radio playing soft jazz in the background. His framed photo of Grandma was still on the table beside him.

His eyes were closed, his face peaceful, like he’d just dozed off mid-story. I didn’t cry at first. I just sat beside him, held his hand, and whispered.

“You can rest now.continue reading …