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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #1432458
The story of a father visiting his daughters grave years after her death.
Hugh had mastered a slow steady walk specific to this place in the beginning of his visits. The reluctant pace of his walk began with the first crunch of gravel under a single perfectly polished black shoe. He then paused to allow his mind time to adapt to the new atmosphere laced with a somber peace, so different from the chaos of his daily life. He watched other visitors as the second crunch of gravel came and he moved into the elements. He always took special interest in a certain person during each visit and tried to imagine a life for them away from this place. It was an odd tradition, but one he latched onto to keep him connected to his life outside. Sometimes it would be an old woman with a wrinkled hand resting on stone as a single tear hid on her cheek behind a black veil. Another time it might be a small child kneeling beside family, staring about in confusion and mild interest. In each and every one of his selections, he saw a small part of his own confliction emotions hiding behind their eyes.

Today his selection was a balding man hunched before a statue of an angel. It occurred to Hugh that this man would be himself in ten or fifteen years, and that left a bitter taste in the back of his throat as he began to move across the gravel and onto grass. In the back of his mind, Hugh knew the exact number of steps without counting at this point. He knew the way as well as the way from his bed to the kitchen or from home to work. It was second nature to let his feet lead the way as his thoughts drifted to various things. On this day his wife, Genevieve, and son, Teddy, were on his mind until he arrived at the grave, and then all thoughts, but those of his daughter, were wiped from his mind. He moved to his knees, letting his suit soak in the morning dew from the grass. His fingers fell apart as they released a bouquet of flowers onto the ground in front of her stone. "Happy Birthday, Evey."

He told her as the tips of his fingers grazed across the words,
'Evey Genevieve Foster
Born: June 5, 1991
Beloved Daughter
You will never be forgotten'

"Mom couldn't make it today, sweetie. Teddy's sick and he's given it to her. They should be up to see you soon." Hugh reached into his suit jacket as he spoke to grab a sheet of stationary from the inside pocket. "She asked me to read this to you." Hugh tried to calm his shaking hands as he unfolded the note, but the shake simply moved from his hands to his voice as he began to speak.

"Dear Evey,
Happy Sweet Sixteen, my beautiful girl. I am so sorry that I can't share this day with you, but you know your brother and his impeccable timing. In my mind, I have planned a party for you with dad, Teddy, and I. I would have decorated the house and bought a cake big enough for an army. You sit in front of it as we sing to you in celebration. I see your father's eyes on you and my impossible hair and you would wish for a tiny red sports car that you know dad and I would never get you. After wards, we would be together, a real family, and then you would go out with your friends to celebrate once again. It hurts so much to know that this will never happen, but then I remind myself that you are with God and I must wait to see you in his time. I love you, Evey. You are my baby now and always. I will never forget you. Happy Birthday.
Love, Mom."

Hugh put Genevieve's letter under the flowers he had dropped and closed his eyes as he knelt before the stone. He like his wife could see Evey as clear as his son. His little girl never got the chance to fight for her life, or breathe one single breath before god took her back from them, but he felt her every moment of every day. He could also feel the fear that had consumed him when he had found out Genevieve was pregnant. Hugh would never in his entire life forget that phone call. He had been at Notre Dame, starting his sophomore year and Genevieve hundreds of miles away in high school. The idea of a child relying on him to care for it's life had scared Hugh more than anything in his life ever had. At her graduation, Genevieve was five months pregnant. They had found an apartment near campus and his parents had agreed to help them until his graduation, when he would begin to pay them back. Their mothers had Genevieve planning a backyard wedding for July and fear slowly gave way to hesitation and then excitement. When they found out the baby was a girl, Hugh had started calling her Evey after Genevieve and it had stuck.

The accident happened on June 5th. Genevieve still lived with her parents at the time and she woke in the middle of the night. The summer air was clinging to her skin, hot and heavy enough to drive her to a shower. She washed the sweat from her skin and walked back to her room with wet hair. At the stairs she grabbed the banister and slowly descended the steps one at a time. Five stairs from the top she stepped to far and fell with a sound loud enough to wake her mother. Hugh rushed to the hospital to find Genevieve had sprained her ankle and wrist trying to stop her self from falling further. Shortly after Hugh arrived, the doctor returned to check on Evey. After an eternity of waiting for him to speak, the doctor told them he couldn't find her heartbeat. For a fleeting second Hugh saw his life returning to him. Everything was back the way it was before Genevieve got pregnant. With one look at his fiancé holding her belly, tears flowing freely from red eyes, he realized that his daughter, their baby was dead. They delivered Evey that afternoon as Genevieve cried out in a pain that ran deeper than even Hugh could understand.

After they lost Evey, Genevieve lost herself and Hugh felt like too much of a fraud to help her find her way back to him. So, in August, he went back to Notre Dame alone and it seemed that they would never be happy again. On the fifth anniversary of Evey's birth, Genevieve and Hugh held a simple ceremony to remember her and to his surprise, Genevieve told him she was ready to get married. They did marry then, but waited another six years before they were ready for Teddy. Genevieve's second pregnancy was the longest nine months of their marriage, but their worries were for nothing. Teddy was three days early and perfectly healthy. Through all of this, Hugh had never missed a single one of Evey's birthdays. Each year he found himself kneeling before her headstone, hoping to find the answer to the only question that mattered to him anymore; How could he make up to her the single moment of relief he had felt when she had died? That single devastating emotion before the pain hit? He had never told a single person about it, but somehow he knew that Evey must know exactly how he had felt. That was the emotion that haunted him every moment of every day when he was thinking of her; guilt.
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