Chapter 26 - Two birthdays
On what would have been Miles and Owen’s third birthday, I did not hold a public memorial.
No balloons released into the environment.
No social-media slideshow.
Lucy and I baked two small cupcakes.
Daniel came.
That was new.
Our divorce had been final for almost a year.
He brought no mother.
No drama.
We put one candle in each cupcake.
Lucy asked:
“Do we blow?”
I said:
“You can.”
She blew both out.
Then ate Miles’s icing.
Daniel laughed unexpectedly.
I did too.
For a moment, laughter felt disloyal.
Then I remembered babies do not require permanent silence from the people who loved them.
Daniel said:
“I brought something.”
I tensed.
He handed me a small envelope.
Inside were copies of two footprints from the hospital after birth.
Not death.
Birth.
Miles.
Owen.
I had forgotten the hospital gave Daniel copies too.
“Do you want them?”
“Yes.”
No complicated symbol.
May you like
Just evidence that before they were victims, they were babies.
That distinction became important.
