Coming Home

He watched as Amy made her way through the plots in front of the stones, carrying two gallon milk jugs filled with water, careful to avoid stepping on “anyone.” A smile tugged at the corners of Hank's mouth as he remembered her sensitive spirit, knowing she was avoiding hurting someone's memory. The tree he stood beside wasn't very big, but he knew the shade and the angle he was standing in hid him from her sight. Being here was sobering to him, considering her loss, but he couldn't help feeling happy as he stood watching her. He knew by her posture that it was no easier for Amy to approach the grave she was headed for, even though he was sure she had probably been there many, many times already.

A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what she had gone through. Alone. He felt guilty that he had not been able to be there with her, to give whatever support she needed at the time. He thought about her inner strength and marveled at all she had accomplished in her life. The mountains she had had to climb, time after time reaching the summit with a smile on her face. He had never met anyone like her in his life, and the pride he felt in being one of the privileged few who she had let into her life made the lump in his throat well up in his eyes.

Amy bent over, after staring at the stone for a few minutes, to pick and toss a few weeds that had grown in with the many flowers she had so lovingly planted around the stone. She poured the water around the plants and walked behind the stone to readjust the Tigger that was hanging in the small crab tree planted there. Hank knew it was probably one of the many trees she had started from seedlings in pots that first summer. She had dwarfed 33 trees in pots, just because someone had the nerve to tell her she wouldn't be able to do it. He smiled as he wiped the tears from his face. Her whole life had been a challenge. The words “can't, won't, or never” to her meant it was time to accomplish "the impossible”.

He remembered the love Amy had felt for her son and how her eyes lit up when he said “MaMaMa”. The smile in her eyes at the sound of his laughter and the swelling in her chest when he bent over to kiss his Mom's cheek. He remembered the pride on her face when she looked at him. Handicapped is what the world called him, but she'd always thought he was perfect just the way he was.

That was what drew Hank to her that first summer. He watched them through his window, knowing they couldn’t see him. They were outside every night, playing in the yard. And he was amazed at her patience as she played with him. Constantly getting up and chasing the ball he had haphazardly thrown in the wrong direction. But it was the first time he watched Amy watching her son play by himself that he knew he needed to know her. He knew, after watching her for only a few weeks that he was already in love with her.

They spent the next two years together, struggling with the situation they had put themselves in. Knowing what had to be done; yet not wanting to do it. It had taken two Goodbyes, but he finally left. Both of them sure they were doing the “right thing”; if not for themselves, for everyone else involved. There had been no contact since he left. That was a promise they made to each other and they kept it.

Hank had never known that during the five years he was back with his wife, she knew all about the two years he had spent away. She didn’t know who the woman was or any of the circumstances concerning that time, but she knew someone had stolen Hank's heart. She saw it in the far away look in his eyes; and felt the sadness in his spirit. After five years she knew it would never go away and asked him for a divorce.

There was no place he wanted to go but back to Amy. He had spent a week in town, trying desperately to find out where they were. He went to their apartment and saw a younger couple unlock the door and enter it. His heart sank, knowing they had moved and having no idea where to start looking.

He sat in the parking lot of the local library day after day. Amy loved to read, and curling up in bed next to her son every night, reading book after book until he fell asleep in her arms, was the highlight of her day. They always spent hours at the library, gathering dozens of books to read that week. He sat there three days and they never showed up. He went in on the third day and browsed through the books on the shelves. He pulled out the card he had in his wallet, knowing it was probably too old to use. But he needed a reason to start a conversation with the librarian that he recognized from five years ago.

When she pointed out his card was expired, he started rambling about when he'd lived there. Pretending to suddenly remember the woman with the red-headed handicapped son, he casually asked how they were doing. He felt the color drain from his face and his knees buckle as she told him of the son's struggle with cancer and his death. He knew the possibility of coming back and finding Amy with someone else. This, he was not prepared for. His heart broke, as he listened to her words run together. The only information he retained was “the little cemetery down the street” and “almost every day”. He barely spoke his “Thank you” as he turned and walked out the door.

He knew the cemetery she mentioned and drove down the first driveway he came to. Getting out of the car he realized that even though it was a small cemetery, there had to be at least 500 stones there. He started walking through them, reading names and dates. Hank began to be aware of all the young people resting there who had not been blessed with the years he had lived; not sure why he had never thought about all of the people who had had to bear the loss of a child. This one hit very close to home. He was in love with this child’s mother.

After reading at least 200 stones, Hank just stopped and looked around. A few yards away something caught his eye. A small crab tree growing behind a stone with two colorful objects hanging from two of the branches. He was drawn to it and didn’t bother stopping to read any more stones on the way.

As he grew closer, he recognized Winnie the Pooh and Tigger hanging in the tree. He drew in his breath as he walked to the front of the stone. It was him. He read the dates, realizing just how young twenty-one was. Tears streamed down his face as he took in all that she had put on the stone. The small delicate hands in the corner, clapping as his always had. The spoon carved in-between the dates on the stone, must have been replicated from a picture. It was identical to the one the child had carried with him since he was eight years old. And the nickname she had always called him, taken from one of his favorite movies, To Kill A Mocking Bird, “AngelMae” right above his name. His eyes slowly moved to the right of the child's name where Amy's name was carved out. The name “MaMaMa” carved above it. He let out a deep breath when he saw only one date under her name.

He stood there taking in all the signs of love she had put around the stone, in amongst the recently planted flowers. There were spoons sticking up out of the ground, and colorful whirlybirds, similar the ones the boy had always loved playing in the wind with, were twirling now in the warm spring breeze. Hank looked at the many different frogs placed here and there, chuckling as he remembered the day one had crawled into the boy's shorts, and the comical scene that pursued as Amy tried to shake it out. He smiled through his tears at the angel placed near his name, knowing Amy had chosen this angel because of the impish look on its face.

Hank started walking, looking for a place to watch and wait from, until he saw the tree and the shadow of the shade. He could see both driveways standing there and knew he would not move from that spot until she came. He had stood there for more than an hour, watching as people stopped to water flowers at other graves, wondering what he would say to her, when he saw a car pull in the far driveway.

A small woman got out of the car and opened the trunk. She took out two plastic milk containers and walked to the water spigot at the side of the driveway. She filled both gallons, and started walking in the direction of the stone he had just stood in front of. He knew it was time to go to her when she sat down in the grass and just stared at the stone, gently wiping pieces of grass from the last mowing away from his name.

He still wasn’t sure how she was going to react to seeing him. It had been five years since he left and this was the only part of her life in those five years he knew anything about. But he had a peace about seeing her and he knew it was time no matter how she would react. He walked up silently behind her. He saw her back straighten, but she didn’t turn around. He slid up beside and sat down next to her on the grass. She sat silently next to him, aware of the few sobs he had let out, when suddenly her hand reached up to gently brush the tears from his face and then slid into his with a slight squeeze.

Hank was sitting on the grass in the middle of a cemetery with Amy sitting next to him and he felt at peace. He was finally home.