Rachel watched her son trail his hands over his father's gravestone.
She felt salty tears prick her eyes as Dewei stared, curiously, at his dad's gravestone.
She, quickly, wiped at the tears in her eyes, so that her four year-old wouldn't see them.
She remembered, when he came home from school, and asked her, "Where is my dad?" His teacher had asked the class about their fathers.
It broke her heart to watch her son talked to the gravestone, as if it was a person, that could talk to him.
He said to the grave, "Hi, Daddy!"
She cried, once she heard him say that so cheerfully.
He walked up to her, and asked, "Why are you crying, Mommy? Why won't Daddy say anything to me?"
"I miss your father." She told him, choking on another sob.
"Why? He's right there!" Her son insisted.
"Th-that's his grave. He's dead, honey." She told him.
It pained her to hear him wail, "I miss my daddy, too!"