"I always thought I would name my first born son after you, Dad. But I knew you would understand when no one else did. Especially mom. She was outraged, you know. I know you know how she was. Is she like that in the after life, too?" Looking down at the yellowing blades of grass at her father's gravesite, the weight of the loss Abby felt whenever she thought of him felt unbearably heavy. "He was quite brave, the boy named Z, the boy who tried to rescue me. He was a child, not a man. I knew that even then, but there was this agelessness in his eyes and such deep caring. I couldn't help but see you there. Hearing the news about your death . . . My heart wretched apart and I wasn't there to be with you. I felt such guilt. I should never have left, you needed me, no I needed you, I needed the time to reconcile never seeing you again."
Abby laid down in the grass with her head close to the tombstone. She turned on her right side and stroked the ground finding some comfort in the sensation. "Zachary has been the most wonderful thing to ever happen in my life. You would have loved him. I know, you would have loved any child of mine. But really, Dad, Zachary is someone special. I see you in him and I see more that I guess is his father. I don't know how to tell Zachary about his father. What's that you say, the truth is always the best? I know you believed that but it didn't seem right to me at the time. When I came home pregnant and sick all I could think was how I had disappointed you. I wanted you to be proud of me, Dad." The grass grew wet beneath face as tears spilled over the bridge of her nose. Sniffling, she reached into her pants pocket she had brought in preparation for this visit.
"Dad, do you think it is funny that I don't talk to Mom's grave like this?" Abby sat up slowly. "She never listened to me when she was alive. She never let me get a word in edgewise. Now I can say all I want without her interrupting, but I don't. I guess I never really had anything to say to her while she was living and that hasn't changed since she died. Dad, does that mean I didn't love her? Did she love me? I have tried hard not to be like her. I used to be so angry with her. I hated the way she pushed me to learn the farm business. I hated that she didn't want me to leave the state to go college. I have tried to forgive her but I don't know if that is possible. I know I need to. I don't want Zachary to stand over my grave one day and not want to talk to me. Tell me I have been a good mother to Zachary."
Abby heard a rustle behind her. Carefully she rolled over to her stomach and saw a baby bird frantically flapping his wings. She looked up and saw the nest above her head where the mother bird had pushed the fledging out. Carefully, Abby scooped up the baby and placed him on a branch near the nest and backed away. She watched intently as the mother bird again pushed the fledgling off the branch, this time getting the coordination of wing flapping just right so that he soared and then landed on the ground near Abby's feet. Again Abby scooped up the bird and replaced him in the tree. Again the mother pushed him off the branch and this time he flew up to the top of the tree instead of falling to the ground. "Are you telling me something, Dad? Are you saying that Mom's pushing gave me the wings to be who I am? Is that I am supposed to do for Zachary now?"
Abby took a deep breath and slowly letting out the air. Whether this was a message from her father or not, she knew what she had to do now.
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