Walter lived in a small white house surrounded by flowers and oak trees. When I knocked, he opened the door almost immediately.
Though he could not see me, he smiled.
“There you are.”
My throat tightened.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
The word felt like theft.
But Walter reached for my hand and said warmly, “Come inside.”
That first visit lasted four hours.
Walter told stories about his military service, repairing trucks, fishing trips, and his wife, Margaret, whom he had loved for more than fifty years.
Whenever he mentioned her, his voice softened.
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