Unfinished

Jack was oddly quiet as Kitty laid a bouquet of flowers on the grave.  “What do you think he was like?” he asked her.

“Well…”  Kitty paused, searching for the words to explain the complicated grandfather Jack would never be allowed to remember.  In a way she envied him that.  Her own memories rubbed against her, the hair shirt she was condemned to wear.  “He looked smart to me, but at the same time like someone who could appreciate a joke.  And a little sad.”

“What do you think he was sad about?”

“Maybe that he didn’t have his family anymore.”

“That’s a good reason.”  Fiddling with a blade of grass, Jack said, “I hope I don’t die alone.”

“You won’t,” Kitty told him.  “I promise.”