Grief was like the wind. Sometimes it came on strong, sometimes it felt completely still, but it was always there. Surrounding them. Blowing at any given moment. They couldn’t escape it, and no meteorologist could forecast it.
His wife didn’t say much on the drive. Sometimes she would make comments just to say something. Mentioning the traffic or an errand she needed to run or something a friend had recently said. But today she remained silent just like J.D. Maybe it was because they were both tired from last night. Maybe it was from the heart attack scare both of them had had.
He had seen some things in his life. Some horrors. Things that would forever haunt him even on the brightest of days. But still nothing compared. Nothing. There were no words for this drive. For climbing out and walking on the grass. For seeing all the names. For navigating through so many stones.
Some might say that you moved on, that you dealt with things, that God could get you through it, but J.D. would tell them they were wrong. It had been years, and still . . .
He followed Teri, an arm around her. He hadn’t worn a thick enough coat to keep out the cold, but at least the cap covered the few hairs left on his head. Age sure wasn’t a pretty thing. But a lot of life wasn’t pretty.
He knew you had to hold on to the good moments as long and hard as you could. They were fleeting. They liked to fly away.
They soon stopped at the right place. The same place they had been standing at for more than twenty years. Teri placed the flowers down below the stone. They stared at it as if it was the first time. As if it might talk back.
The two of them had made a promise years ago. They wouldn’t stop coming here. They wouldn’t bury the past and move on. So this was a weekly thing. Coming to remember. To reflect. To pray. To breathe.
My name. If only it could be my name they were looking at.
He couldn’t help thinking this. Teri had often said the same thing.
She had been their first and their only and their one. The princess. The smile. The spirit. The ecstatic screams.
Kathleen had been the one to quiet down the noise in his restless soul. To blur the memories he had carried since Vietnam. The story that had ended one saga and began another.
But she was gone, and Teri and J.D. were still there. The girl had closed her eyes but Mommy and Daddy were still watching.
J.D. didn’t say anything to Teri. He just kept his arm around her, wanting her to know he was there, that he would always be there. But he also knew that wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough.
God . . .
But he stopped himself. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to even try.
No amount of praying would bring his little girl back to them. Maybe Jesus and his apostles had healed people, but they weren’t around anymore. People had put Jesus to death but he had come back for a short while.
J.D. wished Jesus would come back around one more time. Just so he could ask about Kathleen. Just so he could get some kind of word of hope.
Just so he could make sure that their daughter knew they still loved her and cared about her and remembered her every single day.
This bowling ball tearing down the alley was his heart. The pins it banged into were memories. Yet he could never get a strike. Never.