He was holding an old photograph of the three of them.
“Look how happy we were,” he said. “Maybe if you asked your mom—”
“No,” I interrupted. “That conversation stops here.”
My granddaughter looked up from the basement floor. Open photo boxes surrounded her.
Her father had been asking her to help put the family back together.
On the ride home, she whispered, “I tried asking. Mom said no. I didnt know how to tell him.”
“Oh, sweetheart. That was never yours to fix.”
I told her mother what had happened. The adults changed the visit arrangements, and her father agreed to get support rather than leaning on his daughter.
His apology came weeks later.
“I made you responsible for something you cannot control,” he told her. “You didnt let me down.”
She did not answer immediately. He let her take her time.
Their next visit was a short breakfast.
When she came home, I asked how it went.
“Dad asked about my science project.”
She set a little paper bag on the counter.
“He remembered you like blueberry muffins.”
Then she went upstairs to finish building her model.