My son stepped onto the porch alone while I watched nervously from the car. When my father opened the door, his expression changed the moment he realised who was standing there. My son introduced himself calmly, then reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick folder.
Inside were photographs from every year of his life—his first birthday, school plays, football games, graduations and ordinary moments my father had chosen to miss. My son had arranged them in order, leaving an empty space beside each one.
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