Gramma Goodie visits her grandkids every Sunday afternoon. Every visit starts the same. First she rings the doorbell. Then Chris jumps down the stairs. Jamie runs to open the door. And every time, Gramma Goodie has gifts. But the kids never know what she'll bring.

Sometimes it's something you need, like socks or underwear. Sometimes it's movie tickets or a giant teddy bear. It could be a kite or a stuffed (填充的) baby kangaroo. It could be a lollipop (棒棒糖) that turns your tongue blue.

Well, one Sunday, Gramma rang the doorbell. Chris hurried down the stairs. And Jamie threw open the door.

''Hello, my darlings'', Gramma Goodie said with a smile. ''Look what I have for you. '' She pulled out a pack of cards, and they played ''Go fish'' all afternoon. At the end of the day, Gramma gave everyone kisses. Then she said her good-byes.

As she drove away, Chris and Jamie heard their parents talking. They said that Gramma Goodie's birthday was next Sunday. They were going to plan a special dinner and bake a delicious cake for her birthday surprise.

''Gramma Goodie has a birthday?'' they thought. Both were a little puzzled. Grown- ups have birthdays? Who in the world knew?

''Well, we have to get her a gift, '' Jamie decided.

''But what?'' asked Chris. ''Gramma Goodie has almost EVERYTHING! ''

Jamie thought about scarves and flowers. But Gramma had plenty of scarves and a huge rose garden. Chris thought about books, pillows and photo albums. A diary? She had one. An umbrella? She had that too. A radio? There is one in her kitchen. Oh, what would Chris and Jamie do? They spent all week thinking.

On Sunday, the doorbell rang.

''What's this? '' asked Gramma Goodie.

My father, Michael, led me through the little wooden house he’d filled with his paintings. “When I have an exhibition ...” he began, pointing to the artworks he’d created, before stopping. “Poor Pa,” I thought. In 1994 he got Parkinson’s Disease (帕金森氏病), which had shocked the whole family as he was only in his forties.

A husband and father to three, Pa had had a successful career running an advertising agency and had always been extremely creative. Outside of work, he’d spent 15 years fronting the cover band, Musical Chairs, which performed at the pub in Sydney’s Double Bay each week and, when I became a mother, he developed a very close bond with my daughter.

Even when his Parkinson’s advanced, my father decided he wanted to paint. “Why don’t you try classes?”my mum Louisa suggested to him. He agreed. In art lessons, the class practised painting still life objects, like pears, but my father had other ideas for his inspiration. He began producing abstract pieces, inspired by his favourite artist, Jackson Pollock, a leading abstract expressionist. “Why abstract?” I asked him. “Because,” he replied,“it helps us to see the world around us in a different way. You can look at these paintings and ask ‘what if?’”

Soon, I realized he was right. When I observed my father’s work, I could interpret each of them in many ways. Once he got started, he showed no signs of slowing down. The little house was quickly filled with more and more works.

But in 2019, Pa developed cancer and was given just three months to live. The thought of losing him was too much for any of my family to accept, but we soon received great news that a new form of treatment can help him greatly. Since he continued speaking about wanting to share his paintings with the world, I knew what had to be done.

Having already obtained many medals since starting to play golf at the age of ten, Larry, at sixteen, had developed into one of the best young golf prospects in the country. And he was elected the most valuable player of his high school team. Following his junior year, Larry matched himself against seventy-four of the nation’s best junior golfers in national competitions, and he performed better than the majority of them.

Larry’s performance drew the interest of coaches from some of the best college golf teams in the country. Wanting to stay close to home, he accepted a scholarship to the University of Houston. “Just think, everything will be taken care of, and I’ll be close to home. And it won’t cost us anything,” Larry told his mother, Missy. “And I’ll be playing for one of the best college teams in the country.”

Fighting back tears, Missy hugged her son, knowing he had worked so hard to win a scholarship to make things easier for her. That summer, Larry worked even harder than ever on his golf game, hitting hundreds of balls daily and taking a part-time job in a golf club at night to prepare for college.

Late that summer, unfortunately, Larry had a terrible car accident. “I’m sorry, but we have to cut off your son’s arm below the elbow (肘),”one doctor told Larry’s parents. “Is he going to be all right?” Missy asked. “We don’t know,” the doctor answered.

Upset, Larry’s father wondered about his son’s reaction to the loss of his left arm. “How will Larry ever get along without golf?” he thought. He also realized there was a far more pressing matter than an unclear golf career. “They’ve got to save Larry’s life,” he said to himself. “That’s all that matters now.”

After almost ninety days, Larry’s condition finally improved and he was no longer in danger. One night Larry awakened, found his left hand missing, and cried helplessly. His father raced to the hospital. “Dad, how am I ever going to play golf?” he asked.

“Honey, you still have one arm left,” his father replied.

Larry’s father reached out to various companies and asked if they could design an artificial hand for Larry.