You knew a place where the catfish were always biting. Secret spot you said. Took me there every summer when I’d visit. Just us and the cooler and hours of not talking much. That was your love language I guess. Quiet time together. You asked me to spread your ashes there. Took me two years to do it because I didn’t want to go without you. Finally went last month. Caught three catfish. Cried the whole time. Still your secret spot Gramps. I won’t tell anyone.