Dad finally spoke.
“Heart surgery.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“For months.”
“And nobody told me?”
Grandpa answered.
“I asked them not to.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you looking at me like I was already gone.”
Suddenly Dad’s old warnings came rushing back to me.
Don’t jump on Grandpa.
Don’t sit on his lap.
Be careful around him.
I slowly turned toward Dad.
“You weren’t warning me because you thought Grandpa would hurt me.”
Dad’s face softened.
“No.”
“Then why?”
Grandpa laughed quietly.
“Because your father thinks you still weigh as little as you did when you were seven.”
Dad almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious again.
“Your grandfather has had heart problems for years. His doctors warned us that pressure against his chest could cause pain and make things harder for him. But he refused to let us tell you.”
