My 8-year-old adopted granddaughter was left at home while my son and his wife took their biological son. She called me at 2:00 AM crying, ‘Why Grandpa?’ I booked last-minute tickets and within 12 hours we crashed their vacation!

I swallowed hard and confirmed that it was, and Arthur did not ask for any further details.

“I will be over in ten minutes, so leave the key under the blue planter if you are already gone,” he said.

I told him that I had to get to Asheville as fast as possible, and he simply told me to go.

That was the kind of friend Arthur was, because he complained about small things but helped immediately when it truly mattered.

I booked the earliest flight I could find from the local airport even though the drive was not impossible.

At my age and in my current state of mind, I did not trust myself to navigate the interstate darkness for several hours.

I walked into my home office which was filled with law books that I no longer needed but could not throw away.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and found a small digital recorder that I had carried for most of my career.

I took it because memory is fragile when emotions are involved and facts are most vulnerable right after harm occurs.

I packed a suitcase with a suit, two shirts, medication, and a framed school picture of Daisy that I kept on my desk.

I called Daisy back at three in the morning and she answered on the very first ring.