“That’s why we started coming every weekend,” Nathan explained. “Grandpa’s moving soon. We wanted to save Dad’s things.”
I looked around the workshop at the tools, shelves, and furniture Michael had made.
“You’ve been trying to save everything?”
Nathan nodded.
“I thought if we worked fast enough, we could finish before Grandpa moved.”
“We don’t have room for an entire workshop,” I said.
His expression fell.
“Of course we don’t, Mom.”
“Nathan, I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t get to show up now and pretend you were part of this.”
His words hurt because they were true.
I wanted to explain how difficult the last three years had been. Instead, I asked, “What matters most to you? We can bring some things home.”
