At the end of camp, my parents picked me up and we caught up during the long drive back to The Bronx. Everything was the same, my mother said, nothing was new, that is until I asked how my grandfather was doing. 'Oh, he died,' my mother said. 'Excuse me?' I said, shocked. 'He died,' she said. 'When?' I asked. 'Around the beginning of the summer,' she said.