After my grandpa passed away, my grandma didn’t shed a single tear. Not even at his funeral. She stood tall, calm, and strangely peaceful. Confused, I whispered, “Grandma, are you… not sad at all?” She smiled softly and said, “Your grandpa told me not to cry when he left — because he’d find a way to make me smile again.” I didn’t understand how she could smile when the man she’d loved for sixty-two years was gone. Yet, she stayed composed, even joking that Grandpa would’ve hated all the attention.
A week later, I visited her. The house smelled like lavender and old books, just like my childhood memories. She was knitting by the window when I asked, “How are you really doing?” She smiled that same mysterious smile. “Oh, I’m alright, sweetheart. He’s been talking to me,” she said. Then she told me about a note Grandpa had left decades ago before leaving for the Navy: “If you ever miss me, look for my signs. I’ll find a way to make you smile — always.”
