A Man Named Dave

our home at Beale Air Force Base, I discovered a million different ways my son could accidentally hurt himself – jamming his fingers into light sockets, crashing down the stairs, or even suffocating from his baby blanket. “How,” I asked myself, “can I protect him from all of this, all the time?” It was at the river when Stephen unknowingly taught me my first lesson: Do everything I possibly could as situations arose, but ease up a little and let go. I realized I could not shield, fix, or control every aspect of my son’s future, let alone my own.
    From that point on, not a single day passed that I was not utterly amazed at Stephen. How he curled up and slept in my lap, the softness of his skin, or the gentle sounds that escaped his tiny mouth. When I returned home from a late-night flight, I would always tiptoe into his room and become lost in time as I stood over his crib to watch him sleep. Almost every time I did, after a few minutes of no movement from him, I would think Stephen was dead! My heart would seize as I reached down into the crib and snatched him up. I was always rewarded a split second later as Stephen’s screeching cry became music to my ears. I would then take him into my bedroom, where I would lay him on my chest.
    In the mornings while Patsy still slept, I always made sure I woke up early to spend time with Stephen, listening to him coo, watching him suck on his fingers or crawl through the sheets all over the bed. I was captivated by his constant smile and how every little thing made him laugh. At times I played with him so much that I was late for mission planning at work. At the squadron I’d show off stacks of Polaroid photos before sticking them in my in-flight checklist, so no matter where I flew I always had Stephen with me. After work I would race home, breezing by Patsy with a quick hello before playing with Stephen. By the time he was in his walker, I would chase him throughout the house as he sped away, giggling at the top of his lungs. I laughed as he learned to build up speed by pumping his tiny legs, then lean his walker before taking a sharp turn. More than once I kept my eyes on him instead of the wall that I smashed into at the end of the hallway. At the end of an exhausting day, I’d slowly read Dr. Seuss books to Stephen while he jabbed his finger at the pictures. Even though he was too young to understand, I wasn’t concerned, just as long as we were together.
    Before his first birthday, Stephen’s room, which at one time had been vacant, had become a virtual Toys R Us warehouse. He had so many stuffed animals at one point that I would fill his entire crib to the brim and gently toss him in. He would disappear, only to resurface a few moments later, giggling for me to toss him again. To me, nothing was too much if it made Stephen happy.
    With Stephen, Patsy gave her all. She always made sure he was bathed and covered with baby lotion. When she fed him she seemed happy and beamed whenever he did the smallest thing. As a couple, if we had a flare-up, all we had to do was gaze at Stephen and our anxiety disappeared. At times she’d joke that I spent more time with Stephen than I did her. I took the hint. I just didn’t have the heart to confess that for the first time in my life I was filled with an emotion that I never felt before. Without a shred of hesitation, my son, Stephen, was the first and only person I adored – that I absolutely loved with all of my heart and soul.

10 – The Source
    By the summer of 1987, just weeks prior to Stephen’s first birthday, I took time off from the service and made our family’s first long-range trip. Our destination: Salt Lake City, Utah. Since Patsy was complaining of being cooped up in the house, and, surprisingly to me, got along well with Grandmother, we decided to take the journey. I carefully explained to Patsy that Grandmother could be pleasant on the phone and yet once in person could be controlling and spiteful, but Patsy didn’t care. She thought I was being paranoid. Once there, I knew Grandmother would drive Patsy and me crazy, but since becoming married and having Stephen, Grandmother had treated me like never before. On the phone she savored all updates of Stephen. In the back of my mind, though, I was extremely leery because of my last visit with her.
    Secretly, I had another reason for traveling to Salt Lake City. For years I had had so many questions, and now I felt I was ready. With each day as Stephen grew before my