My grandfather carried the same worn leather wallet for as long as I could remember. After he died at 92, I opened it expecting nothing more than old receipts, an expired card, and a little cash. But hidden inside was a faded photograph of a young woman. On the back was a handwritten phone number, with no name or explanation.
I hesitated for days before finally calling. An elderly woman answered. When I mentioned my grandfather’s name, she suddenly went silent. Then, in a quiet voice, she told me she hadn’t heard that name in more than fifty years. What she revealed next made me realize there was an entire chapter of my grandfather’s life I had never known about.
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