"Arghhh!" I was venting my frustration when the binding on my grandmother's recipe book cracked loudly, startling me. I paused, my eyes landing on tiny handwriting on the bottom of the page. Had that always been there?
"Add two cups GRANDPA'S GO JUICE."
I fired up my laptop, but could find no mention of Grandpa's Go Juice. I sat there, feeling my grandmother's absence keenly, until my parents and siblings arrived with my dying grandfather. At 97, Grandpa slept more than he was awake. He perked up at the glorious smell of his favorite food.
"You made your grandma's chili!" he said happily.
"I tried, Grandpa," I confessed. "The recipe said to add something called Grandpa's Go Juice, but I don't know what that is or where to get some. I'm sorry."
My grandfather's shoulders began to shake, and he bent low in his wheelchair, coughing. I cringed as my mother went to his side to turn on his oxygen. Was he upset that I ruined the chili? I was horrified to think his last visit to my house would end in such a disappointment. Finally, Grandpa sat up.
"Grandpa's Go Juice! That woman!" Grandpa's breath came in wheezy gasps as he tried to speak. We all gathered around to hear the answer, once he was calm enough.
"Go Juice is Whisky!!" Grandpa finally said, smiling beatifically. "Your grandma always said that Whisky made me crazy. She called it my 'Go' juice."
: the state of being absent
: the period of time that one is absent
: want, lack
absence of detail>