The cool yet comfortable April breeze entered the cemetery and blew across my face, stroking my cheeks and forehead like a cold washcloth soothing a fever. A few tresses escaped from my Pollyanna knot that I had styled my hair into that day. In my hands I carried a few gardening tools and I had some flower buds in my canvas bag. I stopped in front of the familiar double-headstone, knelt and pressed my lips to the cold marble in almost a ceremonial kiss.

            "I'm back," I announced, running my fingers over the memorable engraving. I'd read it so many times the words almost had no meaning but of course they were important.

CALE

LOGAN JULIUS                                  MAX GUEVARA

            November 11, 1988-                           April 27, 2000-

            June 14, 2065                                      December 16, 2029

Beloved parents of Maxine

            Seeing my own name and birth-date on the tombstone didn't chill me in the slightest. I felt almost proud.

I did not cry at all. I had not cried for my parents for a long time. It didn't seem necessary. Instead every time I visited, I brought a wide smile. One would most likely rule this inappropriate but I figured even though both my parents were gone, they were together in Heaven for all eternity. And I was never without fresh flowers to plant. Today I had roses.

"I think some red roses would spruce it up a bit," I said as I dug up the dead daisies I had planted a few weeks before. "These daisies didn't last too long and they were a little too boring."

I often spoke to them as if they were right there, watching me plant these flowers.

"I was going to get some white roses and some white tulips," I said, pulling on some battered gardening gloves so I wouldn't ruin my manicure, "but the lady and the shop said white flowers attract bugs and that wouldn't look very nice, would it?"

I paused and cocked my head as I worked. The laughter of my six year old twins, Logan and Christina, echoed throughout the necropolis, hand-in-hand, admiring flowers and reading the names off the tombstones out loud. My husband Daley followed a few steps behind to make sure the adorable imps didn't get into any trouble.

Daley and I married two years out of college and the twins weren't born until almost five years later. I think Daddy was happy we didn't have children right away, all though he loved Logan and Christina as much if not more than me.

When we first married, though, we lived in the apartment below Daddy's, despite the fact it might have bothered Daley but he respected how close I was to my father and I loved him more for the very reason. Every day I would go upstairs to Daddy and spend a few hours with him as soon as I returned from work, even when I became pregnant and I was chastised for climbing the stairs during my third trimester.

My first teaching job came my way when I was twenty eight. I applied for a position at Ellen Pingry High School and they hired me almost immediately. They were dangerously low on staff and I was more than grateful to take the job.

Daley taught an Advanced Art class at the county college before he was snatched up by St. George's High School a US & World History teacher.

Logan Andrew and Christina Jane Westlight were born on May 14, 2059 and Christina was first by four minutes. Daley named her Christina for his grandmother and I, of course, named Logan after Daddy. If anyone was a proud grandparent, it was Daddy. He spoiled both of them from the minute he held them.

"Much like I did with you, Maxine," he joked.

When I went back to work after the twins were born, when they were seven months old, they stayed with Daddy until I came home. He loved their company.

As much as I tried to take care of Daddy, his anemia suddenly grew worse. I came to check on him one day a few days before he died and he was practically passed out on the couch.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" I asked him. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he insisted.

"Have you eaten?"

Daddy sat up, lifted himself into the wheelchair and turned away from me. "Maxine, I don't need you checking up on me like this."

"Daddy, look at me," I put my hands on his shoulders and looked into his blue eyes. "Have. You. Been. Eating?"

"Well," Daddy wheeled into the kitchen. I followed. "Sometimes I get so wrapped up when I take care of the twins, I sometimes I eat a little bit or forget all together."

"Daddy, you can't do that. Your anemia, remember?"

"I have enough strife to deal with, Maxine," Daddy said. "Please, stop worrying about me eating when you have my two spoiled grandkids to feed."

I forced a chuckle and kissed him. "Okay, Daddy. Promise me you'll eat?"

"Scout's honor," he said. "Look, see? I'm opening the refrigerator right now."

"I see. Just remember you gave me scout's honor."

"I never forget. Now, where did I put that copper pan?"

That was the last time I saw him in a mobile state. When I went to check on him and bring the twins over the next morning, he didn't wake up. Or rather he did, but he was very weak. He was lying in bed when I found him, scarcely breathing.

"Momma what's wrong with Grampa?" Logan asked when I backed out of the room, slowly, with tears on my face.

"Nothing. I mean, I don't know. Logan, listen to me," I knelt to eye level with my son and held his arms. "Can you be a big boy and do Momma a favor?"

He nodded eagerly.

"I want you and Christina to go downstairs, tell Daddy to come up here and then stay downstairs and play with your toys, watch television, but don't come back up till Daddy or I say it's okay. Can you do that, Logan?"

"Yes, Momma…"

Christina came up behind her brother. "Momma, why can't we see Grampa?"

"You will," I insisted. "Not now. Please do as I say, Logan. Hurry."

Logan took his sister by the hand and they hurried out f the pent house. As I heard to door slam, I hurried into Daddy's bedroom, took one of his hands into mine and with the other I dialed the paramedics.

"Maxine?" I heard Daley's voice echo throughout the penthouse as he arrived.

"In the bedroom," I replied, kneeling beside Daddy's bed.

"What's wrong?" asked Daley as he entered the room.

"My father … I think he's dying," I sobbed. "I told him to eat … he didn't listen, did he? Oh God, Daley I can't loose him."

The paramedics arrived five minutes later and I left with them to go to the hospital. Daley followed with the twins in my car. Dr. Gallagher had went into action almost immediately. Later he announced that Daddy had had a stroke.

"He's in a coma now," he said gravely. "Mrs. Westlight," he took my hand. "I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do."

"Nothing you can do?" I cried. "You have to save him!" I was in a panic. "This man has brought me up since the day, no the hour, no the second I was born! I've never lived a life without him and I can't do it yet. Please, Dr. Gallagher …"

"Mrs. Westlight, please," Dr. Gallagher continued in a soft voice. "Mr. Cale is on life support now. If he does in fact pull through he'll have permanent brain damage and possibly be quadriplegic. I don't mean to sound harsh but I've known your father for a long time and I don't think that's the kind of life he'll want to live."

I took a shuddery breath and asked if I could see him.

"Of course," Dr. Gallagher replied.

            "Can he hear me?" I asked.

            "It's plausible."

            Dr. Gallagher took me to Daddy's room. On the walk there, I said,

            "You never told me how long you've actually known Daddy."

            "Oh quite awhile. My grandfather Sam Carr was his doctor back in the day. He and your father were friends. Dr. Carr's daughter Lisa is my mother."

            "Interesting," was all I could say. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

            "We're going to take good care of him, Mrs. Westlight."

            I was never so scared as I was now.

            I sat by Daddy's side for three days. I was afraid to leave, terrified that he might die without me beside him. I didn't go home, barely ate or drank. I wouldn't even get up to use the lavatory unless Daley was there to sit by Daddy. Until finally it all ended. He died at 4:15 PM on June 14th, with his favorite daughter holding his hand.

            "Say hello to Mom for me," I whispered to him.