Henry always looked up to his grandfather, James. My father, mother, and I lived with Granddad James in a large family house. We occupied the main part, while Grandpa stayed in a small separate room.
Every Sunday, we all gathered for dinner together. Grandpa James always emphasized the importance of this tradition.
One intense conversation left a deep impression on me when I was 7.
“Sarah, I’m leaving you. I’ve met another woman. If you can, forgive me. I plan to start a new life in this house, so you have a week to find a new place.”
My father’s words seemed incredibly cold to me. My mother couldn’t hold back her tears, which quietly rolled down her cheeks. She started packing and dialed Grandma to let her know I’d be coming soon.
Grandpa, placing Mom’s things back, said, “Sarah, I won’t let you lose your home! Quickly pack this scoundrel’s belongings.”
“What? This is my home. I’m going to live here with my new wife!”
“Try it. I told you to leave this house and find somewhere else,” Grandpa sternly added, with an authoritative gaze.
“No wonder they call you a wizard in the village!”
“I’m a sage, not a wizard. And my instincts never fail me.”
Turning to Mom, Grandpa said, “I always dreamed of having a daughter, and God gave me you. Stay here with your son; I am always near.”
Father left, and I never saw him again. I heard he went abroad with his new wife.
I grew up with Grandpa, who became like a father to me, albeit a strict one. If I misbehaved, he assigned me chores.
Skipping school meant tending to the garden. Being rude to my mom led to chopping wood.
At 20, my friends and I decided to go to the seaside. Mom was away on a business trip, and I made the decision to leave. As I started packing, Grandpa noticed.
“Where are you heading?”
“To the seaside. You’re not letting me?”
“You won’t be going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”
“Grandpa, I’m grown up and can decide for myself!”
I grabbed my things, but my legs wouldn’t move. He kept watching me silently.
The next day, news broke that the bus we were supposed to take had crashed. At the time, I didn’t think much, but now I realize Grandpa saved my life, sensing danger.
Grandpa passed away a few years ago. Candidly, I didn’t grieve much because he was strict.
I now have a family, and a daughter named Emily, after my mom. One evening, we went to a park with a small hill. It was getting dark, and I insisted on leaving, but Emily wanted one last slide down the hill near the road. I agreed.
She slid down too fast, heading toward the road. My heart stopped for a moment.
Suddenly, the sled halted, as if by an invisible wall.
“Emily, are you okay?”
“Yes, Dad. But where is Grandpa?”
“Which Grandpa?”
“The one who stepped onto the road, stopped the sled, and said this wasn’t a safe place to play. He said arguing with him was pointless.”
I realized Grandpa somehow protected us. He taught me vital life lessons, and I’m grateful to him for that.
