“I asked, ‘How do you know the old man?’ Dad said, ‘What do you mean? This is my father, your grandfather. He died in 1952, before you were born.'”
When I was ten years old, I often noticed an older man who had a cane, wore overalls, and slightly dragged his left leg.
When I walked to the store, he would be standing maybe half a block away. When I came out of the store, he would still be off in the distance, never seeming to get closer. And he’d be looking at me.
I never thought anything about it. He never bothered me or scared me. I just thought it was normal for this man to be around.
One evening after dinner, we were looking through family photo albums. I was sitting next to my dad when we came across a photo of the old man. I asked, “How do you know the old man?” Dad said, “What do you mean? This is my father, your grandfather. He died in 1952, before you were born.”
I was born in 1963. I never knew my grandpa, and no one had ever told me anything about him. I said, “But he’s always outside, everywhere I go! You mean he’s my grandpa?”
My Dad looked at me with a puzzled expression. Then I told him about the old man and about how he walked.
Dad said that a stroke had left Grandpa’s leg partly partially paralyzed, and that’s why he dragged it.
After that night, I looked for my grandfather every time I went out, but he was never around. Since I found out who he was, I have never seen him again. My father has also passed away, and I still look for them both whenever I go out.