After all of these years, I’m finally at peace. I let my mind wander as I skim my toes over the untouched water at the end of the boardwalk. The clouds create a checkerboard-like pattern in the bright blue sky. The sun somehow finds a way to slip through the cracks between the fluffy white blobs. The bright rays shine on the dark planks of wood near my thigh as my legs kick back and forth -- splashing in the water below. I hear the wood behind me creaking and the sound grows louder as someone approaches where I sit. Their weight shifts as they finally stop walking and black flip flops land next to my leg at the end of the boardwalk. I recognize the shoes as the figure places them next to mine on the side of the dock and proceeds to sit next to me. Mustering up enough strength, I lower my sunglasses and look over at who sits next to me. It’s my Grandfather, one of my best friends. He gazes at his granddaughter, who has grown and changed significantly from when he last saw her. We lock eyes and share a knowing glance, but neither of us want to acknowledge the unspoken truth. From then on, we spend the rest of the warm afternoon dragging our feet across the water and not speaking a single word.

My grandfather died ten years ago.