My five-year-old daughter’s head struck the edge of the Christmas table before she crashed onto the hardwood floor.
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Chapter 26 / 27
Chapter 26 - RICHARD’S LAST CHRISTMAS
Richard was eighty-three when Lily chose to spend one final Christmas with him.
His health was declining.
Heart failure.
He lived with Margaret in the condominium.
No dramatic deathbed reconciliation.
Just dinner.
I attended because Lily asked.
Daniel came too.
Richard sat at a small table.
Four ordinary chairs.
Before Lily sat, Richard stood slowly.
He pulled her chair out.
Then stopped.
His hand trembled on the backrest.
Lily watched him.
“Grandpa?”
He swallowed.
“May I?”
She understood.
“Yes.”
He pulled it out gently.
She sat.
He pushed it in carefully.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Lily said:
“You’re being weird.”
Everyone laughed.
May you like
Even Richard.
That was mercy without pretending.
