“I know,” I whisper.
I park on the single-lane paved driveway a few rows back from my parents’ large headstone. After getting out of the car, I reach in the backseat for two bouquets of flowers, lilies for my dad and sunflowers for my mom. They were her favorite.
I walk over to where they rest; Luke walks just a couple paces behind me, giving me space. He always knows what to do to comfort me. I’ll have to thank him later.
This section of the cemetery sits up on a hill with a great view of downtown, the Space Needle, and the Sound. I gaze around me, taking in their view, and then turn back to the large, black marble headstone.
I kneel before it, not caring about the wet ground, and brush leaves and grass off the base, cleaning it up, keeping myself busy and my eyes averted from their names and dates of birth and death.
I place the flowers beneath their names and then sit back on my heels and look up.
CONNER is written in big, bold letters across the top, their names and dates are below. Written in script below that is I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
I lean forward and place my palms flat on the smooth, cold marble over each of their precious names and close my eyes, letting the memories flood my mind.
Luke kneels next to me and places his hand on the center of my back.
“Talk about them, baby.” His voice is rough and he’s rubbing my back gently.
I don’t look at him, I just keep my eyes closed and my hands on the stone, but I find myself talking.
“My mom loved to bake. We would bake cookies every weekend, even when I was in college. She was pretty and she hugged me all the time.” The tears are flowing now, running unchecked and unheeded down my face, mixing with the rain falling around us.
“She had an MBA from Stanford, but rather than leave me in day care, she chose to stay home and raise me herself.
And she always told me that it was the best thing she ever did and that she was so thankful for the opportunity to care for me and my dad.
“She was so smart and funny and she was my best friend.” I whisper and brush the tears off my cheeks before returning my hand back to the marble.
“My dad was funny too, but in more of a dry way. He was crazy about my mom. The sun rose and set with her as far as he was concerned. He spoiled her incessantly, which is one of the things that reminds me of him when I think of you.” I smile to myself.
“No matter how hectic his job got, he always came home to us, every night.
He was a ruthless business man, but he was the gentlest man I’d ever known.
And when it was time to defend his daughter,
he
was
voracious
and
tenacious and there was no stopping him.”
“They were the center of my world.”
I hang my head in my hands now, rocking back and forth, letting the grief settle over me. Luke wraps his arms around me and settles me against his chest, rocking me back and forth, murmuring words I don’t understand against the top of my head. He kisses me and tells me he’s sorry.
Finally, when there are no more tears left, I wipe my nose on my sleeve and look at the black stone, reading their names and dates and the inscription below.
“They would have also been married thirty five years this year.” He gasps and kisses my head again. “They tried to conceive me for seven years. They tried everything, but it never worked, so they gave up and resigned themselves to the idea of not having kids at all, or maybe adopting later. My mom got a partnership at a firm and their lives were taking a very non-child-conducive path.
“And then suddenly, in the eighth year, she got pregnant. She almost lost me at five months, and endured many months of bed rest, but here I am, safe and sound.”
“Thank God,” Luke whispers.
“I miss them.” I begin to weep again.
“I know, baby.”
We kneel there, on the wet ground with the rain falling on us for a long time. It feels like hours, but it might only be minutes. Finally, Luke stands and lifts me into his arms, cradling me against his chest and takes me to the car.
He buckles me into my seat and kisses my forehead. As he walks to the driver’s side, I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them, pulling myself into a ball and cry all the way home.
Luke carries me inside and up to his bedroom. I’m not crying anymore, but I’m exhausted, my eyes hurt, and I’m just sad.
He sets me gently on the side of the bed and takes my shoes off for me.
“Stand up, baby.” I comply and he takes my dirty jeans off. “Arms up,” he says and pulls my shirt over my head.
He takes my bra off and grips my shoulders in his hands, guiding me back down to the bed. He walks to a dresser and pulls out a white t-shirt, moves back to me and slips it over my head. He strips out of his own dirty clothes and grabs a fresh t-shirt and pajama pants.
Luke pulls the covers on the bed back, and lifts me into it.
“It’s the middle of the day,” I protest, but he kisses my forehead and runs his fingers down my cheek.
“Take a nap. You’re wrung out, baby. I’m going to grab my laptop and sit with you, okay?”
“Thank you.” I grip his hand and bring it to my face, nuzzling his palm.
“Thank you for today. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.” I feel the tears start again and I’m mortified.
“Hey, hush, baby.” He’s kissing my forehead and cheek, rubbing his free hand soothingly up and down my back.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me. Go to sleep. I’ll be right back.”
He pulls out his phone and turns it off and does the same to mine, pulls the covers around my shoulders and walks out of the room.
A few minutes later he’s back with a large bottle of water and his laptop.
He crawls onto the bed next to me and I turn so I’m facing him. Lifting his hand, he brushes my hair back with his fingers and smiles at me softly.