"It's just so hard," Sharon finished in a whisper.
"I know, darlin," Bea said as she patted her daughter's back. "I wish we lived closer."
Sharon put her arm around her. "I know, but you and Dad are near enough if we need you." For a moment, she was tempted to mention what a help Joe had been, but thought better of it.
She spoke of something else instead. "It'll seem strange going to work, but it might be fun."
"It'll fill the empty spaces of time," Bea said, nodding.
"Well, as Dad said, life is meant for the living."
Harry walked in and heard Sharon's last sentence. "Does that mean I'm forgiven for leaving you barely a week after the funeral? I think your mother cried for two weeks after we got home."
He cast his wife an affectionate glance. "Couldn't bear the thought of your suffering and swore she'd never forgive me." His voice grew husky. "I just felt like we were holding you back, like you needed some time..."
Bea's eyes teared up and she brushed the moisture away.
Sharon smiled. "Of course, you're forgiven. I finally realized you were trying to tell me I had to go on, no matter what."
Her smile changed to a frown as she thought of her sons. "I'm worried about David, though. He's so quiet, more so than ever."
Her father scratched his chin. "Aye, I've been thinking about him myself. Should I have a word with the lad?"
"Please. If you have a chance."
Later in the day, Harry had that chance. Luke was at a neighbors', shooting hoops, while David sat alone on the front
porch. Harry studied him for a moment.
He had his mother's gentleness, but there was something of his father in him. Tom had had his brooding dark side, too. He moved toward the boy, clearing his throat as he sat down beside him.
Harry slipped his arm around David and gave him a brief squeeze. "How's my number one grandson?"
David smiled. "I'm fine, Grampa."
Harry's gaze swept over the yard as he tried to think of a way to draw the boy out. "How's school?" he asked, studying David's expression.
"It's all right."
So, it's that way, is it? Harry thought. Reveal nothing. He exhaled, as he pulled out his pipe and filled it from the pouch he always carried. David watched, and Harry lengthened the procedure, taking several deep puffs.
"Wanna try?" He didn't mean to encourage smoking, but wanted to acknowledge David's leaning toward manhood.
A rare grin lit David's face. "No thanks, but I like the smell. Besides, Mom would kill me, and you, too."
"Aye, that she would."
They sat in companionable silence until David spoke again. "Everything changes, doesn't it, Grampa?"
His tone was that of an old man, weary with the world. It pierced Harry's heart. "Aye, lad. That's the way of life."
He shifted his weight and leaned against a corner post. "But that doesn't mean all change is bad. You can be content again, if you give it a try."
David shook his head. "I don't think I can. It's too late now." He stared at the ground. "Dad and I never...we were never close, but I wanted to know him better. Deep down, anyway."
He looked at his grandfather. "He...intimidated me, I guess. Always larger than life. I never felt I could live up to what he expected."
Harry weighed his words, knowing he'd have few opportunities left to speak his mind while his grandsons were willing to listen.
"It's natural for a boy to feel that way about his father, David, but you can rest assured that he was very, very proud of you. Tom loved his family very much."
David's eyes filled with tears, so Harry went on.
"You have a lot ahead of you. Make the most of it, and you'll be fine. In fact, there's one thing to remember when your whole world seems darkest. It will change."
David nodded slowly. "If only..."
"Aye," said Harry. "Each life is full of 'if onlys'. Everyone has regrets when he loses a loved one, but you're human, David.
"I know, darlin," Bea said as she patted her daughter's back. "I wish we lived closer."
Sharon put her arm around her. "I know, but you and Dad are near enough if we need you." For a moment, she was tempted to mention what a help Joe had been, but thought better of it.
She spoke of something else instead. "It'll seem strange going to work, but it might be fun."
"It'll fill the empty spaces of time," Bea said, nodding.
"Well, as Dad said, life is meant for the living."
Harry walked in and heard Sharon's last sentence. "Does that mean I'm forgiven for leaving you barely a week after the funeral? I think your mother cried for two weeks after we got home."
He cast his wife an affectionate glance. "Couldn't bear the thought of your suffering and swore she'd never forgive me." His voice grew husky. "I just felt like we were holding you back, like you needed some time..."
Bea's eyes teared up and she brushed the moisture away.
Sharon smiled. "Of course, you're forgiven. I finally realized you were trying to tell me I had to go on, no matter what."
Her smile changed to a frown as she thought of her sons. "I'm worried about David, though. He's so quiet, more so than ever."
Her father scratched his chin. "Aye, I've been thinking about him myself. Should I have a word with the lad?"
"Please. If you have a chance."
Later in the day, Harry had that chance. Luke was at a neighbors', shooting hoops, while David sat alone on the front
porch. Harry studied him for a moment.
He had his mother's gentleness, but there was something of his father in him. Tom had had his brooding dark side, too. He moved toward the boy, clearing his throat as he sat down beside him.
Harry slipped his arm around David and gave him a brief squeeze. "How's my number one grandson?"
David smiled. "I'm fine, Grampa."
Harry's gaze swept over the yard as he tried to think of a way to draw the boy out. "How's school?" he asked, studying David's expression.
"It's all right."
So, it's that way, is it? Harry thought. Reveal nothing. He exhaled, as he pulled out his pipe and filled it from the pouch he always carried. David watched, and Harry lengthened the procedure, taking several deep puffs.
"Wanna try?" He didn't mean to encourage smoking, but wanted to acknowledge David's leaning toward manhood.
A rare grin lit David's face. "No thanks, but I like the smell. Besides, Mom would kill me, and you, too."
"Aye, that she would."
They sat in companionable silence until David spoke again. "Everything changes, doesn't it, Grampa?"
His tone was that of an old man, weary with the world. It pierced Harry's heart. "Aye, lad. That's the way of life."
He shifted his weight and leaned against a corner post. "But that doesn't mean all change is bad. You can be content again, if you give it a try."
David shook his head. "I don't think I can. It's too late now." He stared at the ground. "Dad and I never...we were never close, but I wanted to know him better. Deep down, anyway."
He looked at his grandfather. "He...intimidated me, I guess. Always larger than life. I never felt I could live up to what he expected."
Harry weighed his words, knowing he'd have few opportunities left to speak his mind while his grandsons were willing to listen.
"It's natural for a boy to feel that way about his father, David, but you can rest assured that he was very, very proud of you. Tom loved his family very much."
David's eyes filled with tears, so Harry went on.
"You have a lot ahead of you. Make the most of it, and you'll be fine. In fact, there's one thing to remember when your whole world seems darkest. It will change."
David nodded slowly. "If only..."
"Aye," said Harry. "Each life is full of 'if onlys'. Everyone has regrets when he loses a loved one, but you're human, David.
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