William always looked up to his grandfather, Philip. My father, mother, and I lived with my maternal grandfather in our large family home. We occupied the main portion, while Grandpa had a small separate room.
Every Sunday, we gathered for dinner, a tradition Grandpa Philip emphasized as important.
One dramatic conversation left a deep impression on me when I was seven years old.
“Olivia, I’m leaving you. I’ve met another woman. Sorry, if you can forgive me. I plan to start a new life in this house, so you have a week to find new accommodation.”
These words from my father seemed incredibly cold. My mother couldn’t hold back her tears, which quietly rolled down her cheeks as she began packing and dialed Grandma to inform her we’d be arriving soon.
Grandpa gently returned my mother’s belongings to their places and said, “Olivia, I won’t let you lose your home! Quickly pack this scoundrel’s things.”
“What? This is my house, and I’m living here with my new wife!”
“Try it. I’m telling you to leave this house and find another place,” Grandpa sternly replied, commanding with his gaze.
“It’s no wonder the villagers call you a wizard!”
“I’m a seer, not a wizard. And my intuition never fails me.”
Grandpa turned to my mom, “I always dreamed of a daughter, and God gave me you. Stay here with your son; I’ll always be by your side.”
My father left, and I never saw him again. I heard he moved abroad with his new wife.
I grew up with Grandpa, who became like a father to me, though he was strict. Whenever I misbehaved, he made me do chores.
Skip school – tend the cows. Upset mom – chop wood.
At 20, my friends and I decided to go to the seaside. Mom was away on a business trip, so I decided to go. As I started packing, Grandpa noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“To the seaside. You’re not stopping me?”
“You won’t make it on the road. I won’t allow it.”
“Grandpa, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions!”
I took my things, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. He continued to stare at me silently.
The next day, we heard the bus we were supposed to take had been in an accident. Back then, I didn’t give it much thought, but now I understand — Grandpa saved my life by sensing the danger.
Grandpa passed away a few years ago. Honestly, I didn’t grieve much because he was tough.
I have a family now, and a daughter named Olivia after my mom. One evening, we went sledding. It was getting dark, and I insisted we leave, but Olivia wanted one more slide by the road. I agreed.
She flew down too quickly, heading straight for the road. In that moment, my heart froze.
Suddenly, the sled stopped, as if hitting an invisible wall.
“Olivia, are you alright?”
“Yes, Daddy. But where’s Grandpa?”
“What Grandpa?”
“The one who came onto the road, stopped the sled, and told me we can’t sled here. He said arguing was pointless.”
I realized Grandpa somehow protected us. He taught me about life. And I’m grateful to him for that.
