“It’s me.” Scooping his frail hand up, I gently squeezed. “It’s Joey.” "Your birthday is on Christmas Day,” he whispered, breathing labored. "A holy day." “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s me.” Winking down at him, I said, “You have the right grandson.” “My favorite grandson,” he wheezed, and then gave me a tiny smile. “My Joseph.” “Ah now, don’t let the rest of them hear ya say that,” I said with a smile, as tears burned the back of my eyes. “Tadhg would be well pissed off.”
