A Man Named Dave

Stephen and I filled our lungs. “Feel better?” I asked.
    Wiping a tear from his eye, Stephen nodded. Leaning over, I brought him to my chest. “Love you, Dad.”
    “I love you, too, son, I truly do. Trust me, it’s gonna be fine,” I whispered.
    “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Stephen said as he looked up at me.
    “Well …” I deflected as another tear trickled down my cheek. “To, ah … to tell you the truth,” I stumbled, “as I sit here with you, it’s like it never happened. Just as long as I can look at you and know you’re okay, for me that’s all that matters. It’s times like these … that’s what I live for. I’ll always remember this, our time right now, as one of my happy thoughts.”
    “Me, too.” Stephen sprang up to walk over to the nearby fence. Taking a few seconds longer to work the cramp out from my leg, I followed him, wondering what he was up to. “Remember, Dad, how you always told me about you smelling the redwood trees, how it makes you feel good even when you’re feeling down?” Still feeling emotional, all I could do was nod my head. “Well, this is going to be my smell. When I smell this, I’ll think of us and our time together. It’s going to be my happy thought.”
    “Good for you,” I replied, walking over to pluck off a few strands of sweet jasmine from the vine. “So be it.”
    Later, after tucking Stephen in to bed and kissing him good night, with his beloved Wally, the stuffed alligator, cradled in his arm, I stood over him long after he drifted off to sleep. Before turning off the light, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath from the jasmine, whose fragrance filled Stephen’s room. “Happy thoughts,” I prayed as I closed the door behind me.
    Returning outside, I looked down at my watch. During our walk Stephen and I had become closer in four hours than I had with my parents in twelve years. Strolling in the early morning hours of the new day, beneath a canopy of towering redwoods, I felt more fortunate than ever before. After years of intense struggles and personal battles, everything seemed to be coming together. I was a father to a terrific young man who never had a childhood like I did, I had broken the shackles of my past and was fortunate enough to help others, and I finally had a lady in my life whom I loved and adored. I was happy, in every sense of the word. And fulfilling a lifetime fantasy, I was now living yards away from the cabin where my childhood desires first took root.
    Before returning to my home, I stopped suddenly when I caught a scent of the redwoods’ sweet aroma. Turning up to gaze at the silvery-white stars that twinkled far above the tops of the trees, I closed my eyes, thinking of the first time I breathed in that same smell that continued to possess me. As a five-year-old boy, as Ron, Stan, and I stood with Father by the Russian River, I had strained my neck to look up as the deep blue sky gave way to bright orange and purple streaks – as if someone had taken a paintbrush to heaven’s canvas. I had shuddered when I felt someone brush up against me. I thought it was Father, but glanced up to see Mother’s face beaming down at me as she wrapped me in her arms. “Take it in,” she had said. “Take a deep breath, hold it, and never forget. Never forget this moment.” And as I did, it was as if nature’s aroma was Mother’s perfume and the gentle rustling of the trees was Mother whispering to me. For an instant Mom, Dad, Ron, Stan, and I were the perfect family. I had never felt that safe or as loved by Mother as I did at that moment in time. Years later, at the depths of my despair, replaying the vision in my head over and over again had been enough to wash away my pain and loneliness.
    Now, standing alone beneath God’s creation, I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and inhaled as much air as my lungs could hold. I could almost recapture the scent of Mother’s perfume and Father’s shiny jet black hair and beaming smile, as I recalled that evening so long ago. Opening my eyes, I found the north star and muttered, “Rest in peace. May God Almighty grant you both eternal peace. Amen.”

Epilogue
    June 1999, Carmel Beach, California
     
    Without a care in the world, I sip champagne as I gaze at the clear blue ocean. On the beach, dogs run back and forth into the water, chasing the ocean’s foam or each other, or fetching sticks. A blanket of fog begins to overtake the bay. I can feel the hairs on my body spring up from the sudden drop in