I cried so much that I could barely finish reading.
Grandpa’s operation lasted several hours.
Dad and I sat in the waiting room, holding hands.
Finally the surgeon appeared.
Everything had gone well.
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Weeks later, when Grandpa returned home, the first thing he said to me was:
“Before you ask: no, you’re definitely NOT going to sit on my lap anymore.
Dad burst into laughs.
Me too.
Grandpa lived several wonderful years after that operation.
And every time I remember that night, I think about how badly I had interpreted my father’s warnings.
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For all those years, Dad had never tried to protect me from Grandpa.
He had been trying to protect the grandpa’s fragile heart from the granddaughter he loved too much to push her apart.
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And when Grandpa asked me to sleep by his side that night, he wasn’t asking for anything scary.