Molly: Daddy, who is that?

Me: That’s my dad. He’s your grandpa.

Molly: Where is he?

Me: I don’t know, baby.

Molly: Did he pass away?

Me: I don’t know, baby.

(pauses)

Molly: Do you miss him?

Me: Not really, sweetie.

Molly: Why?

Me: Because if he was around, I may not be the kind of daddy you like.

Molly: You’re not going anywhere? You won’t leave me?

Me: Not even if you yell at me to.

Molly: I will never tell you that.

Me: I hope not, but if you do I will forgive you.

Molly: Because you’re a good daddy?

Me: Hmmm, I hope so. Do you think so?

And then she rest her head against my side, nuzzling into me, eyes on that photo. She said nothing but answered me clearly.