Later, I went to the bathroom.

As I washed my hands, I looked at my reflection and remembered the 37-year-old man who had walked in there decades earlier with a ring for a woman he didn’t love, convinced he controlled every detail of his life.

Then 4 boys came in, arguing.

This time they were my grandsons.

One had Lauren’s eyes.

Another rubbed the back of his neck exactly like me.

“Grandpa, we can’t reach the soap.”