by Smitty
Dad’s absence hung in the air like a cloud obscuring the sun on an otherwise glorious day. Halfway through the annual fishing trip, Grandpa had changed.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. “Is it Daddy?” she ventured. Grandpa staggered visibly.
“He won’t be back from Syria, honey.”
“Mom and Grandma last year in the car wreck, now Daddy in the war? Grandpa, YOU’RE ALL I HAVE LEFT!” she wailed, dropping her pole.
He dropped his and moved to hug her. “Oh honey. We have to get ahold of your Aunt Jenny. You see, the doctor called, and it’s cancer.”
—
Thanks, Darlene!