It was a modern cemetery. The stones were new, the engravings sharp and clear. Names and dates stood out harshly from the mellow-hued stone that lined the green grass in militaristic rows. A woman stood upon the well-mown grass in front of a grave-stone. She was very old, and very tired—stooped and bent, a wilted flower. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, her head was bowed, and the name upon the stone blurred in her gaze. One name, a date.

Derek Barrowman

Her mind wandered through her memories, through his life. He had been a bit of a surprise to the parents, who had just begun their careers, but a nice surprise. He was born in June on a beautiful summer day. A good kid, he’d gotten into his fair share of scrapes and skirmishes, but he’d learned his life lessons well. Miraculously, he had survived high school, graduating with slightly quivering A’s. He went into college for business, and got his degree, with honors. Not long after, he married his high school sweetheart Lara Stuart. The wedding was quite uneventful, if you conveniently forgot the part where the flower girl swallowed both rings and had to be rushed to the hospital. The wedding was postponed till the following day, when Derek and Lara exchanged their promises and solemn vows—oaths no less binding for the lack of a visible reminder. He and Lara had their quarrels, their petty disagreements, of course. Their first serious fight occurred over the fact that - Yes, there was a difference between kitchen towels and the bathroom towels. They actually didn’t speak to each other for a week. Yet between times, they loved and laughed and danced through life together, singing the same songs and dreaming together a wonderful dream.

And then came the miracle. A tiny baby girl, born in September, a girl named Maud, a girl who had never existed until that very moment when she was born. From the moment she opened her dark, wondering eyes on Derek, and completely melted his heart, Derek realized he had been made for fatherhood.

Three more kids, two boys and another girl only solidified that realization. He was not a perfect dad, by any means. He got angry, he broke things. In stressful situations he was known to use words Lara would wash out of his children’s mouths with soap. But he loved them, and he provided a wonderfully stable home for them. He taught his boys how to catch and throw a football, how to aim and shoot a gun; but his sons remembered far better his example. He showed them throughout his life how to be a man, a true, honest man, who never took for himself what he could give to others, who protected the weak and the defenseless, who led and served his family faithfully, no matter how tired or unhappy he was. Derek never did understand girls, but he never stopped trying. He was not always patient with them when they expressed their disinterest in football, nor did he ever enjoy playing tea party with them; but he never stopped explaining football games and plays and calls to them. Despite the fact that they sometimes insisted he put on a suit and drink gallons of sugary water with his pinkie crooked, he never refused a single sticky invitation. Maud observed him carefully, noting his gentleness, his kindness, and his generous spirit, and many years later, met and married a man just like her father. 

As Derek was walking his tiny girl down to the altar, to give her away to her husband-to-be Jeff, he found himself peppered with regrets and should-have-done’s. But Maud, blushing and glowing and gowned in white, simply squeezed his arm, and whispered magic words in his ear.

“I love you, daddy.”

Then came the war. Derek and Lara’s oldest son, Barry, enlisted alongside Jeff. Whatever motherly doubts and fears Lara had for her boy, she never betrayed them, but simply loved her son and flew the flag in their front lawn. Jeff and Barry shipped overseas, to meet the enemy in a personal way, and settle the score for freedom’s cause. Maud, now with a child of her own, moved back into her girlhood home with her parents, and joined the war effort from the home front. Derek prayed alongside the nation. It was said, later, that the war was won with prayer—for there was a later, because the war was won! Cities turned out to the streets in mad celebration—and Derek and Lara prayed at home.

They never knew what happened to Barry. MIA—three letters which spelled heartbreak. Missing, their boy was missing, and they never found him. But Derek’s strong faith held the family together, and they moved on. They never forgot, never could forget; but Lara found she could smile again, and she and Derek danced once more. By now they were alone together once more, with their two youngest away at college, and Maud back with her beloved husband in their cozy home. 

Time passed, and the economy dipped. Derek spent more time than ever at his job, trying to keep the company he worked for from falling apart. The slump was severe, and long. Years passed, Derek’s youngest daughter Clara married an politician, and more grandchildren were born him and Lara; and still Derek struggled on. But finally the times changed for the better. It was easier to smile then, easier to spoil their numerous grandchildren. He and Lara aged, grew old together, and loved each other more than ever.

She died in December, only sixty years of age. Derek’s heart broke, and something inside of him died then too. The doctors said he lost the will to live. His health declined, but he never let anyone know. A stroke on his sixtieth birthday devastated his children. He never woke up.

He died in December, exactly a year after his beloved wife. His funeral was held in a beautiful old church, and hundreds of people attended, each of them personal friends whose lives he had touched, and who mourned his death greatly.

Except...

The very old woman at the cemetery flinched at the inner voice that snapped her out of her reverie. She trembled, and the tears in her eyes overflowed, spilling onto her wrinkled cheeks. She sank to her knees in front of the simple stone.

He had been a surprise for his parents, who had just begun their careers. A nasty surprise. They didn’t have the time or money for a baby right now—it just wasn’t the right stage in life for children. It had been simple, really, just a simple operation, and they would be past this unexpected and unwelcome thing.

The old woman traced the stone with a shaking finger. Just six words. No name, no date. 

 In Memory of My Unborn Baby