My 5-year-old daughter said to me, “Mom, when it’s time for sleep at Grandpa’s house, she calls me to her room, asks me to close my eyes and we play a secret game. But he told me I couldn’t tell you.” I was paralyzed. The next day, I sneaked into my father's bedroom and what I discovered caused my legs to shake.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

My father was crying too.

Emily was looking confused.

Why do you all cry? I didn't want to make you sad.

My father sat her on her knees.

No, honey. You've made us very happy.

Then he whispered something I'll never forget.

For forty years I was afraid to open this book. And thanks to you, I finally could do it.

From that day on, we started meeting every Sunday at my father's house.

We opened the book together.

Sometimes we laugh.

Sometimes we cry.

And Emily keeps playing her favorite game: close her eyes and guess the little items her grandfather places in her hands.

Only now the game is no longer a secret.

And every time he sits on his knees, my father looks at me and smiles.

There was a moment when I believed that the old man I loved so much and trusted was hiding something terrible from me.