Chapter 127
Carl pulled the car to a stop at the foot of the hill.
Stewart took Irwin’s hand, and together they began their hike up the slope.
At the entrance to the cemetery, two rows of tall, lush trees–both evergreens and flowering shrubs–lined the path, their branches intertwining overhead. The shadows they cast seemed almost like silent sentinels standing guard.
In the center of a broad, solemn plaza stood a towering stone memorial, reaching up toward the
sky.
Stewart paused with Irwin in front of the monument and laid a wreath at its base.
The air was thick with silence.
It was Irwin’s first time here, and he looked around with wide–eyed curiosity.
Stewart held his small hand tightly as they made their way up toward the graves clustered on
the hillside.
Countless unnamed heroes of the modern age lay at rest here.
“Dad, who are we visiting?” Irwin asked.
“We’re here to see a great hero.” Stewart glanced down at him, his eyes shadowed by a heaviness Irwin didn’t quite understand.
“Like Iron Man?” Irwin pressed, hope flickering in his voice.
“Iron Man’s just a story,” Stewart replied quietly, his tone solemn. “But every hero here was real.”
“Oh!” Irwin’s big eyes darted around, absorbing everything.
They stopped at a simple, black headstone. No name. No inscription.
Stewart knelt, setting the flowers gently at its base. He wiped away the dust with his hand and stared at the stone, his dark eyes locked on it.
The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words.
Irwin stood at his father’s side, glancing from the headstone to Stewart. He had a thousand questions but sensed his dad’s mood, so he wisely stayed quiet.
“Irwin,” Stewart said, turning back and gently ruffling his son’s hair. His voice was low, steady. “Kneel down and pay your respects.”
“Okay!”
Irwin dropped to his knees in front of the grave, pressing his hands to the ground, and bowed his head in a solemn gesture.
When he finished, he looked up at Stewart, his small face full of innocence and trust.
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Chapter 12
Stewart helped him to his feet, his large hand enveloping Irwin’s tiny one. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Dad, does this hero have a name?”
“He does.”
Irwin craned his neck to look up at him. “What is it?”
But Stewart didn’t answer.
The mood was somber, and Irwin could sense that his dad didn’t want to talk about the hero any further.
Their descent down the hill was slow.
Irwin’s curiosity was boundless–he asked question after question all the way down–but this time he was smart enough to steer clear of the hero. Instead, he focused on himself.
“Dad, today’s the Lantern Festival! Should we go see Mom?”
Stewart glanced at him. “Do you want to?”
“I do!” Irwin burst out. “Mom Rosita said I was too mean to Mom before. She was so sad and disappointed, that’s why she doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“You really were out of line. She had every reason to be upset.”
“But I know I was wrong!” Irwin pouted. “I’ll do better from now on. I’ll listen to Mom, and be even nicer to her! But now that she’s moved out, it’s so hard to see her!”
“Let’s make a quick stop first,” Stewart said, looking down at him. “Then I’ll take you to see your
mom.”
“Okay! Dad, you’re the best!” Irwin grinned.
Stewart looked at his son’s bright, innocent face and couldn’t help but smile.
Half an hour later, on the outskirts of Northborough, they arrived at a quiet nursing home.
Stewart led Irwin inside.
In a private room, an elderly man in a blue–striped hospital gown sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the world outside.
He was over eighty now, and dementia had taken most of his memories. He barely remembered who he was or where he’d come from.
A nurse quietly updated Stewart on the man’s condition.
“His memory’s gotten worse lately. Sometimes he doesn’t even recognize me. And whenever it snows, he keeps asking to see ‘Charlie.‘ When he gets agitated, we have to give him something to calm him down.”
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Chapter 127
Stewart just listened, then guided Irwin over to the window.
The old man didn’t recognize visitors anymore, but perhaps struck by Irwin’s sweet face, he reached out and gently tousled the boy’s hair, breaking into a toothless, childlike grin.
C
