“I already did them. Well, most of them. I can’t make myself go in the chicken house.” She whispered the last words and sniffed back the immediate barrage of tears. “S-sorry. I’ll call you back later.” She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the counter so she could blow her nose. You have to stop crying before Addy comes back up. A few tears are one thing; a deluge could be scary. It was all she could do to stagger into the bedroom and shut the door before throwing herself across the bed. Spook had gone from whimper to all-out bark before it registered.

“Grandma, are you all right?” Addy pounded on the door and rattled the knob. “Grandma!”

“Sorry, I’m coming.” No, I’m not. I knew having her here was not a good idea. Don’t be stupid. She’s a big girl now. Let her know what is happening. She can handle it. She wanted to scream, “Shut up!” but sucked in a deep breath instead. “It’s okay, Addy, I just had a crying jag. Do not call your dad, this just happens sometimes.”

“You sure?”

Ginny could tell that her darling granddaughter was crying now. Go to her. Ginny blew her nose again as she crossed the room to the door. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay.” How she had managed to push the lock button when she shut the door was beyond her, but then, right now, too many things were beyond her. She opened the door and pulled her granddaughter into her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But sometimes the grief just overwhelms me. Not quite so much anymore but I should have warned you. Pastor Mike said this is normal. Amalia said the same thing. I guess until you go through it yourself, you don’t know.”

“But, Grandma, I miss him too, so much that sometimes I want to scream at God. This is so not fair. I need my grandpa.”

“I’ve already been yelling at Him, but you know, it is not God’s fault.”

“He’s the only one who could have stopped it.”

“Come on, let’s go to the recliner.” She sat first and Addy snuggled in beside her like they had done for so many years.

“We don’t fit so good anymore.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue. “Grandma, how come nobody wants to talk about Grandpa?”

“Ah, sweetie, it’s because it hurts too bad, and they don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t either, but saying that doesn’t do any good. I just cry—and cry. But I guess that is the way of…of grieving for someone you love so.”

Addy’s nodding head rubbed against her shoulder. “I remember when our baby died. I didn’t think Mom would ever quit crying.”

“You were pretty little then.”

“I know, but I’ll never forget.”

“We don’t forget, but after a while, it doesn’t hurt so much.” Ginny sucked in a breath. “I keep telling myself, this will be that way too, but right now…”