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After our breakfast, we walked around the city for a while, hand in hand. Nova took pictures, and I watched her, a smile on my face the whole time.
We eventually headed back home, and hung out there for a little while, before packing a lunch together to take to the cemetery.
Nova’s quiet on the drive, and I worry she’s retreating into her mind, but as soon as I have the thought she looks at me and smiles. It’s not a forced smile, either, granted it’s small, but I’ll take it.
I park and we hop out.
I grab the food and she gets the blanket.
Hand in hand, we walk along the trail. Even though we haven’t been here in months, we both still know the way by heart. It’s not something we can easily forget.
When we make it to the plot we both stop. It’s like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air. Drawn forward, as if by an invisible force, we both step up to the tombstone. It wasn’t here yet the last time we were here, and something about it feels both good and bad. Good, because finally his name is marked and his existence feels concrete, not something we conjured in our imaginations, and bad, because it feels wrong that the birthday and death day are the same. It’s tragic.
Nova presses her hand to her lips and I look over at her as tears begin streaming down her cheeks
.
My hand tightens around hers and she squeezes back.
The pressure says I’m here, you’re not alone.
“T-The flowers,” she stutters, wiping at her tears with the back of her other hand.
We picked up some flowers while we were out today and I stuck them in the cooler to get them here safely.
I let go of her hand and set the cooler on the ground, bending down to get the flowers.
I hand them to her and she cradles them against her chest, her eyes closed as she breathes in. I watch her, the sun haloed behind her head, and I’m taken by her.
She is madness, she is frenzy, she is fire, she is beautiful.
When she opens her eyes, she looks at me. They’re clear, not happy, but not quite sad, either. Maybe more resigned than anything else.
She squats down, with both her knees in the grass, and places the flowers on the tombstone by his name.
I bend down beside her, placing my hand on her back.
“I miss him,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
“Do you think he knows how much we love him?” she looks up at me. “Do you think he’s happy wherever he is?”
I’ve never been one to believe in God, or some mythical force out there greater than we are, but with one look Nova manages to change everything.
“He knows we love him, believe me. Love is louder than words.” I kiss the side of her forehead, her hair blowing in the wind. “And I believe he’s happy. We’d know if he wasn’t. We’d feel it in here.” I tap my chest.
She cries and her tongue slides out to moisten her lips. “It’s so hard,” she chokes. “Missing him. Wishing things were different.”
“I know. I know. This isn’t meant to be easy. This is normal.”
She nods and wipes her eyes. Looking up at me, she says, “Confession: I still want a family with you. I want it all.”
I can’t help it. I grin at her and then tackle her, kissing her like I can’t get enough of her.
Which, I can’t, and I never will.
Her words make me happy, and I feel a weight I didn’t know I was carrying lift off my shoulders. I realize now a part of me was worried this would scare her too much to ever want to try to have a baby again.
