That night felt different.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Papa came home before the sky was completely dark. Usually, the sound of his car didn't arrive until Nathan was already asleep—or sometimes at dawn, when Nathan was still stretching and wriggling under his little blanket.
Nathan's eyes lit up with curiosity as Papa opened the door. His tiny body scrambled across the floor toward the living room, but Grandma scooped him up first and carried him to the dining table.
That night, they had dinner together—complete. Papa, Grandma, and Grandpa. Only one chair was empty. The chair at the end. The chair that was always empty. Nathan had grown used to seeing it, but tonight, it felt… heavier. Quieter.
Papa set down his spoon, drew in a breath, and spoke. His voice was low, as though holding back something that threatened to spill.
"Pa," he said to Grandpa, sitting tall across from him, "tomorrow's Nathan's birthday."
Grandpa nodded slowly. "Yes. Grandma's already prepared a small cone of yellow rice. We thought of inviting a few neighbors, so the children can play together."
But Papa shook his head. His face didn't soften. "I want to take Nathan to Maria's grave," he said.
The room fell silent. Even Grandma's spoon stopped clinking against her plate.
"And what about the prayer service?" Grandpa finally asked.
Papa let out a long sigh, staring at the plate before him that had already gone cold. "Nathan's birthday… it's the same day his mother died, Pa. I… I can't celebrate it."
Nathan stared at his father with wide, innocent eyes. He couldn't speak, not yet, but his mind was alive with questions. Papa's words echoed inside him.
"Maria's grave… That's Mama, right? So… tomorrow is my birthday… and also the day Mama died?"
His little stomach tightened. He didn't understand all of Papa's words, but the word "death" pressed heavy on his chest. He reached out across the table, touching Papa's hand with his tiny fingers.
Papa turned. For a moment, their eyes met—the eyes of a baby, and the eyes of a man who had lost the love of his life. Papa forced a smile and stroked Nathan's head.
But Nathan didn't smile back. Inside, a question trembled that his lips couldn't yet form:
"Papa… you loved Mama so much, didn't you?"
And then, another thought rose—unbidden, fragile, like mist creeping into the quiet night:
"I'm sorry, Pa… Mama died because of me."
Nathan didn't know if it was true. But from that moment on, he carried a feeling he couldn't name. A guilt born at the very same time as he was.
"Alright then, I'll go with you tomorrow," said Grandma, her voice gentle yet firm. She looked at her son, who now kept his head down.
Dad shook his head, not turning toward her. "No need, Ma. I want it to be just the two of us."
His words sounded calm, but Nathan—sitting on Grandma's lap—could sense something heavy beneath them. As if Dad carried a truth he longed to release, yet chose to bear alone.
Nathan kept staring at him. A baby's gaze full of curiosity, yet within his silence echoed the weight of thoughts far too mature.
"Just the two of us… with me?" Nathan wondered.
"Does Papa want to be alone… or does he believe only I deserve to know who Mama was?"
Dad still wouldn't look at Nathan. His eyes stayed fixed on the leftover rice on his plate, though his spoon hadn't moved in a while. Perhaps he feared that if their eyes met, his feelings would spill out, beyond control.
Grandma, still cradling Nathan, smiled faintly. Then she turned to him.
"Don't be naughty tomorrow when you go out with Papa, alright?" she said.
Nathan nodded softly, though Grandma might not have noticed the small movement. In his heart, he answered:
"I won't be naughty, Oma. I want to know too… who Mama was. I want to see her, even if it's only through a gravestone."
But that night, Nathan found it hard to sleep. He leaned his head against Grandma's chest, eyes gazing at the ceiling. A vision came again—of a fair-skinned woman with a radiant smile that always felt warm. Maria Suyoto. The name was beginning to take root in his heart, though he had yet to truly know her.
"Tomorrow… I'll learn more about you, Mama."
---
The next morning, the sky was still dim, dew clinging to the window glass. The house hadn't fully awakened yet. But in the living room, Dad was already ready.
With an unreadable expression, he carried Nathan out to the car. His hands moved deftly as he fastened the baby carrier belt on the back seat. One pull—click. Secure.
Dad looked at Nathan for a moment.
"We're going to see Mama, alright?"
Sitting upright in his little seat, Nathan instantly beamed. His eyes sparkled, his tiny legs kicking gently in excitement.
Yes, Papa! I want to see Mama! he thought. His heart thumped fast. Not from fear—but from hope.
But from that small mouth came only: "Ah ah ah!"
Dad's lips curved into a faint smile. He gently patted Nathan's thigh before closing the car door.
Through the window, Nathan stared outside, his face full of questions.
What is Mama like? Can Mama hear me now? Can Mama see me? Look, Mama, I can sit in my own seat already!
The car slowly rolled out of the yard. The road was still quiet. The sky was growing brighter, but Nathan's heart only grew more restless.
I'm happy, but also… afraid. When I see Mama's grave, will I finally know why Mama died because of me?
Then he remembered Papa's face from last night—frozen, deep, carrying wounds left unspoken. And Nathan understood that today wasn't just about him.
Today is about Papa too. Today, we're both going to see Mama.
---
The little body could no longer fight sleep. The gentle sway of the car, the low hum of the engine, and the cool morning air slowly drew his eyes shut. Strapped into the baby seat, Nathan slept soundly through the ride.
The car stopped.
The door opened quietly. Morning air slipped in, carrying the scent of damp earth and grass heavy with dew. Nathan stirred, his eyelids fluttering half-open, still hazy. But in the warmth of his father's arms, he relaxed again, not fully awake.
Papa carried him out, stepping along a narrow, silent path. Few sounds followed them—only the crunch of dry leaves underfoot, and now and then, the heavy sighs from the man's chest.
Before a grave marked with a white cross, Papa stopped.
Slowly, he knelt. Adjusting Nathan's position in his arms so the child could "see."
The inscription stood clear, written in simple letters:
Maria Suyoto
Nathan blinked at the words. I can read? he thought, a strange feeling flowing through him. So… this is Mama's grave?
Papa lowered his head. The hardness in his face softened, his eyes fixed on the headstone as if gazing at an old love. His voice came out scarcely above a whisper.
"This is Mama's 'home' now, Son," he murmured. "She's the only woman Papa ever loved."
Nathan was silent.
The baby could not yet speak, but his heart swelled with words.
Mama… this is the first time I've met you. But why does it have to be here?
He squirmed, longing to get closer. To touch the soil. To say, Mama, I'm here. I was born. I'm sorry I arrived while making you leave.
But his little hands could only reach as far as Papa's chest. From his mouth came nothing but, "Mmmah… Mahh…"
The sound made Papa lift his gaze toward his son. His chest trembled. He smiled, though his eyes glistened.
"Yes, Son… That's Mama," he said hoarsely. "Call her… so she can hear you from heaven."
Nathan looked at the headstone again. For a long while.
Mama, listen… It's me, Nathaniel Tallo. Your son. The one you left, but also the one you brought into the world with your greatest love.
---