Rest In Peace: John Davis and Caroline Faye
Today I said goodbye to my son and daughter.
John Davis, our first born, was named after my wife's father. To avoid the confusion, we called him "Jack". Secretly, we just liked how it sounded. The connection with her father was just another sign that we picked the right name. Jack was a little mischievous, but he was precocious and very inquisitive. He loved animals, sports, and his daddy. You would always find a baseball cap on his head, but it was never on straight.
In the evening, after I returned home from work Jack and I liked to sit outside and watch the birds eating from our smorgasbord of feeders. "That's a cardinal, Daddy," he would say. The little guy was great at memorizing bird names, although he did have trouble distinguishing the difference between a sparrow and a wren - but who doesn't?
Jack's big brown eyes signaled to the world that he was his daddy's son. His little hands always gripped a ball or a book. We always found him occupied with something. He was good kid. I hate the years starting now that are robbing me of his ascent into manhood. I miss you, Jack.
Caroline had her mother's curls. She loved ribbons and her big brother. She liked to help her mother cook, but loved to hear her daddy tell her a story - usually about a little girl named "Caroline". She was very sentimental and had a beautiful heart to match her face. When a spider would show up in the house uninvited, she would insist on me catching it and setting it free outside as opposed to me just killing it. I asked her if she liked spiders, but she said, "No! They are yucky! But they don't deserve to die just because I don't like them."
Caroline had beautiful blue eyes that melted everyone when she looked their way. She never realized what those eyes could do to me, but I knew what they would do to the boys that would line up for a date years down the road. Too bad I never had the opportunity to keep them away.
One of her favorite places to be was buried into my side on the recliner as I read stories to her and her brother. When I would move my arm to turn a page or take a drink, she pouted in her little way until she could move my arm back around her.
My baby girl couldn't go to sleep until I tucked her in and sang the chorus of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" to her. She would close her eyes pretending to fall asleep quickly, but her smile gave her away. I would play along and tip-toe towards the door, but she always whispered softly, "I love you, Daddy," as if she was saying it in her sleep.
My kids are gone now. They never had a chance. We never had a chance to welcome them into our family. Their mother left for the weekend and came back someone else. She officially left the marriage today. She took with her both of our children although the first one was probably still a year or so away. Still, as you can see, they were very real to me.