“The restaurant’s doing very well. Ira and I paid off that nasty loan you guys were always complaining about. We even introduced some beers and fine wines to the menu to see how they would go over. We haven’t had many bites, but we also haven’t heard of any complaints. So, I guess that’s a good thing,” I said.

I stood there, staring down at my parents’ graves.

“I miss you both. The entire town misses you guys. Every time I go into work, someone new comes in with another story to tell, another picture to show, or another piece of memorabilia they want to give to me. You guys are everywhere in this town. I have no idea how I’m going to keep up,” I said, snickering.

I felt Ira rub my back, and I wrapped my arm around her.

“Ira’s doing well. She um, she’s kind of moved in with me,” I said.

She giggled before leaning her head against my chest.

“I know you guys were always old-fashioned. But she’s a great woman. And she’s managing the restaurant great. The house is being taken care of, too, if you guys were wondering. I’ve got some time set aside next week to get some plumbers in to replace the piping. You guys really should have told me you still had clay sewage pipes. I would’ve had them replaced for y’all years ago,” I said.

I kissed the top of Ira’s head as I gathered my thoughts.

“Sometimes, it feels like you guys aren’t here, if I’m being honest,” I said.

I felt Ira’s arm tense around my waist.

“Not that I’m ungrateful. I just… the further away we get from the day you guys died, the more I feel your absence. Mom’s perfume isn’t in the hallways anymore. Dad’s hair isn’t in the sink anymore. It’s like life is just erasing you guys. And I don’t like that,” I said.

“Keep going. Get it out,” Ira whispered.

“I hate it, actually. I hate the fact that the pillows don’t smell like you guys. I hate that every time I cook in the kitchen, I’m using the last of what you guys bought. I can’t stand it. I want everything to go back to the way it was. But in some ways, I don’t. Because your deaths brought me back into town. Into the restaurant. Into Ira’s arms. And I just…”

I looked up, blinking back tears as I gazed out over the empty cemetery.

“I guess the selfish son in me would simply like a sign that you’re still here,” I said.

“I keep trying to tell him it isn’t selfish. But he won’t listen to me,” Ira said.

“I can hear my mother agreeing with you.”

She giggled before she reached her lips up and kissed my cheek.

“You did good. Go ahead and finish,” she said softly.

“Ira’s been working with me on expressing myself a little more. Not just the positive emotions, but the negative ones as well. So, there’s one last thing I want to say. And I hope you don’t hate me for it,” I said.

I drew in a deep breath as the wind started kicking up.

“Why on God’s green earth did you make the damn ceiling of that office so low?” I asked.

Ira giggled, and it caused me to laugh. The two of us stood at my parents’ graves, listening to the wind and breathing in the fresh air. Our soft laughter died down, and I rubbed the top of my head, feeling the newly formed knot that seemed to keep cropping up every other week.

“I keep telling him that once we get these loans paid off, our first renovation is raising the roof,” Ira said.

“I’ll have a concussion before then,” I said, chuckling.

“But your son really could use a sign. Something. Anything to soothe his heart. He misses you guys more than you could ever understand. I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—give him something so he sleeps better at night,” she said.

She looked up into my eyes, and I kissed her forehead.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I whispered.

“Always,” she murmured.

Then, I felt her shift.

“Hey. Look,” she said.

I followed the pointing of her finger and watched as a car pulled up. A family got out of the car—a towering father, a very short mother, and a giggling baby boy. I smiled softly as we watched as the father put his son down so he could put flowers on the grave of whoever they were visiting. The woman wrapped her arms around the man, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was roughly the same height as Ira.

“That could be a sign,” she said.

“I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see,” I said.

Then, I slipped my hand into hers and we walked back to my car.

I opened the door for her and helped her in. But something forced me to look back. Something tugged at my gut, so I turned around and looked at the family again. The man had his son on his shoulders and held the woman around her back. The three of them stared down at the ground, mourning the loss of their loved one.

And I watched as the wind swirled around them, catching them off guard, throwing them off balance. The father caught his son as the boy went tumbling and the woman cried out. The man scooped his family close, all of them thankful to have one another as they grieved for those they had lost.

The sight made me grin.

Maybe it was a sign.

“You okay, Clay?” Ira asked.

Her voice ripped me from my trance, and I got into the car.

“Yeah, just thinking about some things. Ready to go visit your father?” I asked.

“I am,” she said.

Then I cranked up the car, pulled out of the parking space, and headed for the other side of the cemetery.