Work on my current “Work in Progress” continues. I am beginning to see where it is going, anyway.
Izak was wrapping up his remarks—at least, the part he’d shared with me. Susie hadn’t looked away from him once.
“Emily said she knew I’d understand,” he said, his voice straining. “That leaving us the way she did would be easier on everyone.” He caught his breath, holding it until it escaped in a sharp hiss that echoed through the microphone. He gave a small, tired chuckle and lowered his shoulders.
“Not really for you, Grampa I-Zak,” Susie’s small voice cut through the silence.
Rose leaned toward Susie and, grasping her shoulder, admonished her, “Susie, it’s not polite to interrupt people when they are speaking, especially here.”
Susie looked up at Rose, her eyes wide, then bit her bottom lip, turning away, staring down at the floor before her, before responding sorrowfully, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Izak uncurled his hold from the support of the podium and flexed his fingers before taking his first tentative steps toward our seats. Rose continued, “Susie, what do you say to Izak?”
“Rose, it’s okay.” Izak continued walking toward us. Rose’s shoulders relaxed. Izak stopped in front of Susie. His knees popped as he slowly lowered himself in front of her, smiling warmly, gazing at her as he said, “You are right about that, Susie.”
Susie grabbed either side of her folding chair’s seat and pushed down to scrunch herself forward so she could get her feet on the floor. She stood and encircled as much of Izak’s shoulders as she could in a warm hug, burying her face against his neck. “I miss Gramma Emi too, Izak.”
Izak let their hug linger before pulling back, his eyes moist. When he finally pulled away, the dampness in Izak’s eyes mirrored the heavy air in the room. He didn’t wipe them; he simply let the emotion sit there, raw and acknowledged, between him and Susie.
Memory is the Key 