It hangs on the wall opposite my bed - a photograph of my grandpa and me. I am laughing while my grandpa's safe hands are holding me tightly to his chest. Is it only a loving memory? If so, why do I feel grandpa's presence mingled with the world around me?
My grandpa and I had walked together a long way. He was there to guide me, to teach me, to protect me. One dark evening, he embarked on a new journey, a journey to the unknown. The rest of his family was bereft, I was left behind. Then life continued in its own rhythm. The tide splashed on the shore, the stars twinkled in the same vast…
