My Grandfather’s Watch

When my grandfather’s watch broke, I thought I was going to lose my mind.  It was the only thing I had to remember him by.  When he died, my father sold the house and everything in it while I was at school.  By the time I got home, the locks had been changed and my father was waiting on the front steps to explain it to me.   

My grandfather was my best friend and when he died suddenly, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.  My father has never been particularly fond of me, but when my mom left a few years ago, it was easier on both of us if I spent more time with my grandfather.  At least he liked me.  After my grandfather died, I had planned to go through his house for the few items I knew I had wanted to keep.  My father knew this and sold the house anyway.   

“You are not taking anything out of this house.  I forbid it,” my father had said.  He had given no explanation, warning or reason.  Just those two lines.  For whatever reason, the family who bought the house would rather have to deal with getting rid of my grandfather’s items than to let me find the few things I knew I wanted.   

Little did he know, I knew what windows were loose and how to get in.  I just wasn’t expecting the family to already be moved in.  Or wearing my grandfather’s clothes. 


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