Finding Parker (28 page)

Parker followed as I walked out onto the porch. The month of May in San Diego is about like every other month, and today was no exception – eighty degrees and sunny. Downes opened the door of the car as I approached, and I lowered the baby into the car seat. After buckling him in, I walked to the other side and got into the car beside him.

“Sit in front, Parker. I’ll ride back here alone and relax,” I sighed.

As Parker got into the front seat, I exhaled. For now, the baby was lightly fussing and attempting to fall asleep. It was a great improvement from earlier, as the morning had been filled with his constant wailing. I closed my eyes as the car began to maneuver through the long drive and away from our home. I knew the drive to the cemetery shouldn’t take long. We’d all been there before, but this was our first of what would surely become many traditional visits. It was our first Memorial Day. Exhausted from the sleepless night, I fell asleep to the sound of the car’s tires humming on the surface of the road.

“Wake up, we’re here,” Parker said as he opened the car door.

I blinked my eyes and focused on the gravestones along the horizon. I’d never been to a cemetery before my mother or Kenton passed away; my father had been buried in another state, and my mother and I never took the time to travel to his grave. I turned toward the baby who was sleeping.

“Want to take turns?” I asked as I motioned toward the car seat.

Parker shrugged, “I guess it’d probably be best. I love you. We won’t be long.”

“Leave the flowers, or at least some of them,” I said out the open door.

Parker nodded his head and raised his index finger to his lips. I looked down at the baby as he quietly slept and smiled. I turned toward the door again and slowly pulled it closed.

“You shhhh,” I smiled as I pulled against the door handle.

Parker and Downes weren’t gone for long, and they returned. After Parker took my position in the back seat, Downes and I quietly walked to the gravesite. As we stepped to the gravestone and stopped, Downes handed me some the fresh flowers we had brought with us. Standing in front of the grave, clutching the flowers in my hand, I slowly lowered myself in front of the etched stone.

“Well, it’s Memorial Day. Not that we need a special day to come visit, but this is the first of our family tradition. I’m sure Parker told you, but in case he didn’t, I will.”

“We have a baby. He was born six weeks premature, but he’s doing really well. For some reason, today he’s really fussy. Although I always do, I really wish you were here
today
to help. I know you’d find a way to fix it. And I didn’t sleep much last night, so I need a hug. One like we had that day out on the deck. Remember? The one where you rocked on your heels?”

I paused as my eyes welled with tears.

“Oh, and there’s a little more. We named him Kenton Ward. Kenton Ward Bale. We all call him
K.W.
because it’s hard to think of having another Kenton in the house, at least for now. I love you. And I miss you so much. I’ll be back soon. Maybe by then K.W. will be feeling better.”

I stood from my crouched position and dropped the flowers beside the grave.

Goodbye father.

Downes wrapped his arm around me as I turned toward the car. Together, we walked silently to the car. Downes didn’t speak much, and he didn’t need to. His facial expressions and his actions made his thoughts clear and left nothing to the imagination. What little he did speak was truly meaningful. I remain extremely grateful to have him in my life.

The drive home was uneventful and rather relaxing. Soft music kept the baby asleep, and we refrained from speaking to allow him to sleep. For the entire drive, I prayed when he woke up he felt better, and wasn’t in such pain. As we pulled around the fountain, and came to a stop, I unbuckled the baby from the seat.  Immediately, I realized my prayers weren’t quite answered. He began crying and squealing as soon as I removed him from the seat’s restraints.

“I’ll take him for a walk,” I said as I pulled him from the car.

I walked through the house and out onto the deck. Frustrated, I began to pat his back as I held him against my bosom and against my shoulder. He continued to scream and his stomach felt tight and bloated.

I continued to bounce in place and lean over the handrail as I patted the baby on the back.

Please God, help me. He’s in pain.

As I prayed there be nothing seriously wrong with our baby, I patted his back lightly and bounced. I stared out at the ocean toward the location where we had spread Kenton’s remains and attempted to find some inner peace. The day was clear, and minimal smog allowed me to see to the horizon. The water was the most beautiful of deep blue colors. As I absorbed the beauty of the ocean and hugged the baby, I remembered the day of Kenton’s hug, and the smell of the beach. I closed my eyes and became lost in the memory as I continued to pat the baby.

The scent of the beach filled my nostrils. My heart raced. It lingered for the longest of moments, and continued as I took two conscious breaths. The baby burped and rested his head on my shoulder.

The scent of the beach still lingering strong, I opened my eyes and spoke out loud.

“I love you too, father. I love you too.”