Ten years after my grandfather died, I finally went back.
Not for a reunion.
Not for business.
Not for family.
I went for silence.

The city had changed, of course.
The train station was unrecognizable.
The streets were shinier, narrower, and taller.
The small things, dumpling shops, corner stalls, worn stone steps, were harder to find.

But I wasn’t looking for things.

I walked alone for hours, retracing my memories like old photographs.
I didn’t visit relatives.
I didn’t announce my trip.
I didn’t take selfies.

At some point, I realized I wasn’t trying to see the city.
I was trying to feel my grandfather.

He used to walk these streets with me when I was small, holding my hand in that big, warm grip I can still remember.
He never said much. But he always waited for me when I stopped to look at pigeons or plants. He never rushed me. Never scolded me. Never told me to be faster or better.
He was the only adult in my childhood who never once made me feel like I was failing.

I didn’t go to his funeral. I didn’t see him in a hospital bed. I didn’t hear any last words.

I was just told, “He’s gone.”
And we moved on.
But I didn’t. Not fully.

That day in the city, I walked past an alley that looked familiar. The light hit it just right - soft and sideways, like it used to.

I stopped and cried.
No one saw. No one asked.

I just stood there, ten years too late, saying goodbye to someone who had never asked for a goodbye.

Afterward, I found a small print shop and asked them to digitize a few photos I’d carried in my bag - grainy images of my grandfather holding me, walking with me, sitting quietly beside me.

When I got the files back, I saved them to every cloud I had. Just in case.

That night, I texted my mom three words:
“I saw Grandpa.”

She didn’t reply with words.
She just sent a photo, one I’d never seen, of me, asleep in his lap.

I cried again.

Not because it hurt. But because I finally understood something.

He loved me. Deeply. Quietly. Without conditions.
And part of that love stayed. Even now. Even here.
Even abroad.