Grandma's House.

Our story begins with a boy who loved his grandmother. The boy grew up with her by his side, and with so much happiness. However, a year later she passed of a stroke. The boy, Harold, went to her house to retrieve what was left for him in her will. The attic. He got ownership, of her attic. This meant that even if new owners came into the house, he would have access to the attic and the owners would not.

The new owners were fine with him coming in, as when they signed the contract to the house they already knew the attic was not theirs. They were pleased to know him and in an hour or so they were friends. Harold told them about his upbringing, his grandmother, and why he was excited to see the attic. He did warn the family that he would be by often, and they were fine with it. They understood how hard it might be for him.

Eventually, he ended up having tea with them and went about his business in the rest of the house. The new owners were yet to be fully unpacked, or clean. It was exceptionally dusty. Harold had only ever gone beyond the second floor once, and that was to get a tub of fabric. It was right by the entrance, as his grandmother had told him. It had the lid off, and he had told his grandmother that he had loved the room. She remembered that when writing her will. She even kept stuff in there for him, little did he know.

Harold climbed the latter which led to the attic. He found dusty boxes. He started with the one in the back. The furthest one. On top, there was a box in a heart shape. Harold wondered why his grandmother would hold on to something like that. Why she would keep a chocolate box in a tub in her attic. It said on the tag, "To Diane. For the love we have, now and forever." His grandmother never had talked about love. The box was so old, it looked like it was given to her a very long time ago.

Little did Harold know, this box was given to his grandmother's mother. When she was moving out, her parents had a large fight. Diane, her mother, moved out of the house. But a day before she died, she found the box on her doorstep. She ate all of the chocolates. She died in the night, of natural causes. When his grandmother went to see her in her house the next day, the box was right by her dead body. His grandmother kept the box of chocolates, that reminded her so dearly of her loving mother and her love for sweet things.

Yet, Harold would never know that. Harold rummaged through the box some more, finding another box in the heart shape. This one was also empty. Harold wondered who gave his grandmother so many boxes of chocolates she wanted to keep. Why did she want to keep the boxes in a tub instead of throwing them out after she ate all of them? On the tag it this time said, "To Gertrude. I miss you." The same handwriting that it had on the other tag.

Except this box looked so much newer. Yes, indeed it looked old. But much newer than the other one. Yet, what Harold did not know was that his grandmother's name was not Gertrude. His grandmother's name was Lynn. His great-grandmother's name was Diane. But not Gertrude. Gertrude was the name of a woman his great-grandfather had loved. A woman with which he had an affair. The reason his grandmother's parents split, the reason she moved out to start her life elsewhere.

Gertrude was a young woman, whose spirits were always high. She did not know he was already married at the time. But one day she found out. His wife came instead of him. She felt upset and broke all ties with him. He left her a box of chocolates. His grandmother went to see her because she did not believe that she existed. But sure enough. And she saw a box of chocolates and angrily stole them. This was a year after Diane had died.

She kept the chocolates but didn't tell anyone. She was much too angered by it. Harold would never know she thought. She forgot all about it. Now at the end of the box, he found one singular last heart-shaped box. Also empty. He thought his grandmother must have been popular. Now, out of all the boxes, this one looked to be the newest and in a brighter red than the other two. In all fairness, that could have been dust or grime.

This one was addressed to his grandmother, in the same font. Except this one did not have a note on it. Except for the story behind this one was different. This one was from him, yes, but it was different. You see, this one was never actually given to his grandmother. This one was eaten by him. The chocolates had poison in them. He died a few hours later. He wanted the box to go to her, yes but not the chocolates. Because on the napkin that came on top of the chocolates was a letter.

Saying that he loved her. Saying that he wished to see her one more time in heaven. That he had loved her. He was smiling at her from the heavens and would support her all the way. But Harold did know this. He read the letter that was in the box. He hadn't known him or heard much about him. But he did know that leaving an empty box of chocolates was his way of saying hello to her. Peeking his way back into her life. In short, this might have comforted his grandmother.

And somehow, knowing that one way or another his grandmother knew she was loved by her father. Even though some of the things that he did were a bit, not alright at all, they still were connected. He went through the rest of the boxes and found that there were many cool things he found. But none of the things were as good as the note. Harold may never know the truth behind the chocolates. He may never know the truth about his family.

But what he did know was enough. And that's the way he liked it.