May 31 is my dad’s birthday. Most years, I have had the pleasure of spending it with him, even if it’s just long enough for cake and the birthday song. However, this year, I didn’t see him at all and I celebrated in a bit of an unusual way. This year, I am in Brazil, while my dad is home in Kansas (well, for him it’s Missouri), back in the good ol' United States. Based on intel from Mother, he spent the greater part of his day working on renovations to make his own father, my late Grandpa Elvis’, house more to his and my mother’s taste and functionality. It’s kind of funny, because in a way my family has always celebrated Father’s Day twice in a row every year. Grandpa Elvis’ birthday was the day before Dad’s and Grandpa Ray’s birthday is the same day as Dad’s. So I’m sure while he was working on their future home, my momma was down the road visiting her parents.

Since there was no way for me to fly back for a few hours to wish my daddy a happy birthday and international phone calls cost nearly as much as a corvette, I reserved the day for something that just might have been even more special (no offense, Dad!).

My husband and our Maé, his mother, moved to the United States for a few years while he was in high school (a little over 10 years ago). The plan was for his father to join them in Florida after he had finished the rest of the legal paperwork and whatnot to be there. However, right before he was able to come (about the time when you switch your countdown from months to days and have been on days for about two weeks), he was in a fatal accident. Since Brazilian funerals are so soon after death, the family was not able to make it to his service. Now the household family, if not for the rest of them, is pretty private about their grief, so much so that it’s almost like a taboo topic that they themselves have not even broached. My happy husband especially hates to speak of anything that will make anyone sad or upset, maybe more than anyone else in the world. Of course, he definitely does not speak about this that breaks all our hearts.

These last two weeks, among the places of his life that my handsome husband has introduced me to, were places he spent time with his dad. Out of curiosity, I asked him if he was buried nearby. Much to my surprise, he didn’t know! After a few moments of a concerned type of quiet, right then and there, I set my mind on finding out. His brothers and his mother (and my beautiful sister-in-law too) were very kind and each took some of their own time to show me where their (Am I allowed to say “our?”) loved one lies and explained to me why some of the things are and were the way that they are and were.

On my father’s birthday, while he was spending time with his memories of my grandpa, I guided my spouse, unknowingly, into a flower shop I had spotted early in our visit, where upon seeing his blank expression I finally encouraged him to pick out something for his Grandpa Nélo and for his father. He nodded silently and fulfilled my bidding. Solemnly, but together, we walked to the cemetery and I showed him what he needed to know.

This was long overdue, but still it tore me to pieces me to break my darling’s heart like that, especially springing it on him the way I did. Knowing him, I knew he would want to go privately, but this whole trip, like always, he has tried to do everything for me and he probably would have refrained from this highly necessary visit. I don’t know why, but I felt like this would mean a lot to him. No, I felt like this would mean the world to him, this man I cherish so much.

The longer I tried not to watch my husband, but to give him comfort, the more I hated myself for doing this to him, yet simultaneously, the more I knew it had been the right thing to do. It wasn’t about me, though, and standing there as the rainy drizzle cleared, I realized that no matter how many Band-Aids God gives me to apply, this is a wound I can never heal.

At long last, my dear husband was able to introduce me to his dad. He may not have said many words, but Lord knows I have many.

Here are but a few of them.

José Luis,

Surely in Heaven you know all the languages now, so pardon me for the disrespect, but I am much more worth your time in English.

First off, muito prazer, so glad to finally meet the man that my husband admires so entirely much. There are so many conversations I would love to share with you, so many experiences, but there is one thing I really really need to get off my chest. It’s about your son.

I know he thinks about you when he least expects it. Those times when he tries so hard not to think of you, I know you know it is only because he loves you so entirely much that he doesn’t think he can handle it. Then, he is human and starts to forget things he never knew would be so important to him, like the way you smell, precisely the way your smile lines formed, or your own personal dialect. He’ll never tell me how much it frustrates and infuriates him, but I see the guilt and irritation he feels for it and I’m confident you will agree with me that it is unreasonable and he is all the stronger for recognizing it. That doesn’t make it any easier, but I promise I will try to remind him of that.

I’m sure you can see how much he is like you. Silently, everyone tells me about that, just as I can see you in him whenever I learn something new about you. Maybe that’s why I feel like I knew you, even though that is absolutely absurd and obviously impossible.

Somehow, through pictures I can see that your son laughs like you, that the impeccable happiness that first made him so intriguing and irresistible to me, came from you. That quiet, laid-back, yet confident demeanor that all three of your boys have also stems from you. The finesse that God created as my favorite man was molded after you. The people here recognize him for who he is, as your son, before I even know they’re walking toward us. Obviously, this community respected you and treasured you, based on the loving way they treat him in your name.

All these things have built my love and respect for you, even though we weren’t able to form that bond in person. You have built such a loving family that I am humbled and honored to now share. Here, where you lie with your father, one of the few things our guy will choke out is that you would have loved me if you had met me. But, I know that you do. For some reason, God has allowed me to watch you place your hand on his shoulder a few times, and once he even let me see you grab his arm and pull him in for the most amazing embrace I’ve ever experienced, though I wasn’t momentarily in anyone’s arms. You love me just because, as you have taught your family to do, that’s just what you do. You guys just love. That’s so cool. We’re going to try to do that with our little part of the family too.

Most of all, I thank you and Maé for growing your son into the man that I love so much and for blessing our union. I think his mom can see as I can, and as she feels, how proud you both are of him. He is a very honorable and thoughtful husband as well as a generous gentleman like you showed him how to be. Already, I can tell you have also shown him how to be a great father.

When the time comes, and we have little ones of our own, it will trouble him in all their accomplishments to not see you there. I assure you, I will point you out, but I’m going to need some help and he is going to need some hugs.

I really can’t tell you how honored I am,

And thanks again, Paí.

Your Newest Daughter,

Sammy