widow tender_square "i think about johnny," grandma said. "he is my son, and i was also married to him." mom corrected grandma. "you were married to john, johnny is your son, they are not the same person." grandma pointed across the room to a picture on table. my grandfather's cocked head, a sailors pipe hanging from his lip. he wears a newsboy cap. even though the photo is in black and white, his blue eyes pierce the paper. "i don't remember him anymore," grandma admitted. "you didn't have that long together," mom reminds her. "you met in '57 and he was gone in '69...twelve years." my grandmother has entered her ninth decade, surrounded by images of those she's outlived, ghosts of her former self. "it's no wonder you can't recall him," i figure. "he was only part of such a small fraction of your life." 230807 what's it to you? who go blather from