It’s easy to think that he’s letting me know he’s still here, but it’s probably just the wind. I know that. It’s the most basic human need—self-comfort. I want to think he’s there and safe. So I do.
“I brought something to show you,” I say. I open my box and take out the pictures I have looked at so fondly through the years. My heart clenches as I shuffle through them, looking at them like I have never seen them before. “He’s so beautiful,” I whisper, and my voice cracks. “We did something so right, Trav.” I look toward the sky and wait. Then the wind picks up my hair again, and this time the hair on my arms stands up.
“I met him today. I didn’t even know it was going to happen. I went to the park with my boyfriend, and he had orchestrated this whole meet-and-greet with our son. My boyfriend’s name is Paul, and he’s pretty fabulous. He has a daughter and a family he loves more than anything.” I take a breath. “Anyway,” I say, “I met our son today. And he looks a lot like you. I can see your smile in him and your sense of humor. He snorts when he laughs kind of like you did.”
I drag my finger down the edge of the plastic sign and wish it didn’t have to be this way.
“I’m sorry I never came when you died. I read about it in the paper. I don’t even know if you were in pain or if it just happened and, poof, you were gone. I guess that’s a good thing. They say the truth is better than not knowing, but sometimes I think not knowing trumps it. It lets you believe what you want. And I choose to believe you’re at peace. Does that make me naive? It probably does. But I don’t care. No matter what, you’re not here anymore, and that’s just a tragedy all by itself.”
The wind stirs again my hair lifts.
I throw up my hands and sniffle. “I get it!” I cry. “You’re here!” My eyes fill with tears, and they finally spill over. It’s a shoulder-shaking, can’t-catch-my-breath cry, and it goes on way longer than I should let it. But I can’t seem to stop. It’s just too hard.
When my tears are spent, I touch the little homemade sign again and think about everything he needs to know.
“Our son’s name is Jacob, and he has a great mom and dad. Her name is Jill, and I don’t even know what his dad’s name is yet. Jacob’s artistic and he plays sports and he likes music.” I point to my forehead as though he can see me. “And he has your cowlick! Oh my gosh, it was so f**king adorable. You have no idea how beautiful he is.”
I wait a beat and take in the beautiful day and the people milling around.
“I just wanted to tell you that he’s okay. That’s all. I thought you deserved to know. No matter what happened with us, he was yours, too, and you didn’t get any say about what happened to him, because after a while, I couldn’t find you.” I point to my chest and then thump it hard with my fist. “I did the best I could. I really did. I did everything I knew how to do! I wanted him to be taken care of. I didn’t even know where my next meal was going to come from most days, and I couldn’t do that to him. I know you might not like my choice, but I had to make one, and I had to make one that was in his best interest. I wanted him. But I wanted him to be safe more. Does that make sense?” I talk to him like he’s here with me. It’s stupid, I know, but I need for him to f**king be here so much that I’ll set aside everything else. I’ll chuck my pride. I’ll throw all of it away because I need for him to hear me. More than anyone else, I need for Travis to hear me.“I love him,” I say. “And I know you love him, too. They want me to come back and see him another day, and I’m going to do that. They’re even willing to tell him who I am and let him know me as the woman who gave birth to him. I still can’t get over that part. They’re good people. And he’s happy.”
I stop because I don’t know what else to say.
“He’s happy, Travis. He’s happy and healthy, and we made something so wonderful. He will go on to do brilliant things. And I just wanted to tell you that. That’s all.” I get up and dust off the butt of my jeans.
I stare down at Travis’s final resting place, and a weird sense of peace envelops me. My hair lifts again, and this time, I swear that I feel his lips touch the nape of my neck. The hair on my arms stands and a shiver slides up my spine, but it’s a good feeling.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the wind.
I go back to the office to get my suitcase, and the girl behind the desk chirps, “Did you find what you were looking for?”
I nod. I found that and more. “What would it take for me to get a gravestone for him?” I ask.
She snaps her gum. “Just stone and brass?”
I shrug. “Something nice.”
“About two thousand.” She looks closely at me. I reach into my purse and pull out my checkbook. I did just win five thousand dollars, after all. Jacob might want to come here one day to visit, and I don’t want him to see that crappy sign. And Travis, all by himself with no thought to Jacob, deserves better.
She slaps an order form in front of me. “I can fill out the dates. Just put your information and what you want it to say.”
I think about it for no more than a second. I write the words, “Beloved father and friend.” Because that’s what he was. He was beloved. By me, most of all. He was valuable. We all have intrinsic value, just because we exist, don’t we? I like to think so.