After Grandma passed, Grandpa didn’t say much at the funeral. He just clutched her photo tightly and nodded at people, as if he feared falling apart if he stopped. We checked on him throughout the first week, bringing food and offering to stay over, but he never asked for anything. He just kept saying, “I’m okay, kiddo.” Then, one day, he was gone. No note, no packed bags—just his truck missing and the house locked up as if he might return any minute. It took a few days before I figured out where he had gone: to a cabin he built deep in the woods, far from everything. It was his sanctuary, the stillness he had been searching for. I found him there, bearded and peaceful, surrounded by sawdust, looking like he was part of the forest itself. “I just needed silence,” he said. (check in first comment👇)