“After we eat.”
“Then I’ll wait. It’ll be a real treat to have some wine. It’s been a good while.”
“Why has it been a good while? You enjoy drinking it.”
My dad teetered his head back and forth. “It’s the pastor in me.”
“You’re a Methodist pastor and drinking in moderation is accepted by the Methodist Conference. Like I need to remind you of that, as well as the fact that Jesus drank wine. He also turned water into wine at a wedding and the party was on!” I chuckled.
“Oh, I know. But remember, I was a Baptist preacher before switching sides, and drinking is notaccepted by that Conference. Old habits die hard.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“We’re gonna bury that old Baptist habit of yours once and for all. Right now. You’re gonna have a glass of wine with dinner and also one after we eat and maybe even another.”
My dad side-eyed me and grinned. “Okay. But only if you drink with me.”
“Deal. Besides, you coming here to see me is a special occasion, so let’s celebrate.”
“Yes, let’s.”
I walked into my kitchen and got the bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the fridge, then popped the cork and poured my dad a glass of the dry white wine. Not the regular serving of five ounces. A serving that nearly reached the rim. When I handed the glass to my dad, he shook his head at me and started giggling. Then he asked me about my drink.
“I’m about to go make mine, but you go ahead and start enjoying yours,” I said.
“I believe I will. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Dad.”
As soon as we sat down at my dining room table to eat, my dad held out his hand for me to take. Then he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and began blessing our meal with a prayer. I kept my eyes open and watched him—and I smiled to myself. When I was a little girl, I used to peek at my dad like this whenever he prayed at home or at church. Even back then, I saw and also sensed the sincerity in every word that he spoke to God, and it always warmed my heart so much. Just like now.
By about midway through our meal, we had talked even more in-depth about my new job, colleagues, and also the running trail that I’d been going to, when my dad asked me how I was doing in my healing process since my divorce.
“I would say that I’m about eighty percent along. I wish I was a hundred percent over everything but I’m just not. Memories of Graham and me keep coming up out of nowhere and they never fail to set me back,” I said.
“That’s a normal part of the healing process. You’re grieving your personal loss while also learning to let go. Stevie, do you ever find yourself missing Graham?”
“I miss the old him, just like I’m sure there are days when he probably misses the old me. The first six years of our marriage were so wonderful and we were so in love, but everything went downhill after we lost Malcolm. It went downhill quickly, too.”
“You and Graham did the best you could to fight your way through that storm. Your mother and I both witnessed it, along with Graham’s family and all your friends.”
“We were so ill-equipped to fight our way through it.”
“No one’s well-equipped to handle the loss of their child. Nothing can ever prepare you for it. Not even if you saw it coming.”
I set down my fork and then looked back over at my dad.
“Malcolm is who I really miss. I dream about him so often. I’ve even dreamt that I was carrying him again,” I said, rubbing my hand across my abdomen. “On my first night here in this house, I dreamt about him having lived and what he’d look like now. He was such a beautiful baby, and the four-year-old version of him that I saw in my dream was just as beautiful. Cotton-white hair, the brightest blue eyes, a little round nose, and apple cheeks with a dimple in the right one. Perfect. And the strangest thing about that dream was Malcolm talked to me in it. I clearly heard his sweet angelic voice.”
“What did he say to you?”
I wiped away the tear that was rolling down my cheek. “Mommy, I love you and I’m still here.”
My dad reached over and rubbed my shoulder to comfort me.
“When he said that,” I continued, “I remember thinking how he spoke older than a four-year-old would have.”