Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

42. Ford

42

FORD

I didn’t go see my mom’s grave right away. I knew it would be hard to see her name etched in marble when she should have been here with us. She would have been in her fifties now, still young.

So I stalled, taking advantage of the early morning chill, and went for a long run around the dirt roads surrounding the cemetery. This was how I used to train in high school—land in the country was divided up by “sections,” a mile on each side. I could run around a section once to get four miles in, twice for eight, and so on. Sometimes, I’d count telephone poles to track my distance, knowing there were about a hundred yards between each one. Sixteen to a mile.

Today, as I ran, there was a mix of nostalgia, anxiety, and love all taking turns filling my head and heart while I ran.

I missed my mom.

Mia loved me.

What if I messed everything up?

I’d come so far since running country roads in high school.

What if it all went away?

Mia loved me.

And I loved her.

By the time I ran the section a couple times, I was exhausted, spent physically and emotionally. I slowed to an easy jog toward the familiar spot where we’d laid my mom to rest all those years ago. I’d been barely old enough to know what was happening as each person was given a chance to toss dirt on the casket, saying goodbye.

As soon as I got home the day of her funeral, I changed out of my suit and ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could, realizing I could make myself tired enough so the ache in my muscles won the battle over the ache in my heart.

That day was still sharp in my memory as I reached our family plot where my mom’s grave was mixed with other family members’. Grandparents. An aunt and uncle. But her white marble headstone, vases on either side filled with silk sunflowers, stood out.

I finally came next to her gravesite, eyes tracing the familiar words permanently etched in marble.

Maya Madigan

Beloved wife and mother

“Lead with love.”

The years showed the shortness of her life. Thirty-eight years old. Mia’s age exactly.

My heart clenched at the thought, nearly bringing me to my knees.

I focused my gaze instead on the trinkets surrounding my mom’s grave, trying to ground myself in the moment. There was a turtle statue, a ceramic football player I’d gotten for her when I made the Diamonds as a first-round pick, and other small items my siblings and nieces and nephew left for her.

One day I wanted to leave a memento from a winning Super Bowl here.

But for now, I sat on the buffalo grass slightly to the side, extending my legs to stretch as I sat with the memory of her. “Hey, Mom,” I said softly.

I knew deep down she wasn’t here, but I swore I felt her presence somehow. My smile trembled for a moment, because I realized this was another one of those milestones she wouldn’t be here for. She’d never get to meet Mia. See us together.

Just like she hadn’t been there for my first professional football game, to see me play in the Super Bowl.

“I miss you,” I whispered.

Of course she didn’t answer.

Hadn’t answered since I was ten years old. But that didn’t keep me from hoping.

I looked around at the empty cemetery. Beyond the limestone and chain fence, all you could see were wheat fields and blue skies. No one was here but me.

Emboldened by privacy and needing to bring Mom along on this part of my life, I told her all about Mia. How strong she was, how successful and beautiful and kind and determined. I explained how Mia made me feel—invincible but somehow weak at the same time. Challenged to be the best version of myself, just to keep up with her.

I finished by saying, “You’d love her.” I touched the rough top of her headstone with my fingertips and waited for a moment. “I’ll see you later, hopefully to tell you we won the Super Bowl.”

As I walked away, I imagined the sun shining down on my shoulders was Mom’s way of saying she was with me, that she approved, and maybe, just maybe, she was proud of me too.

When I got back to the house, I found Mia and Bryce sitting at the kitchen table, both working at their computers. When they heard me come in, they swiveled their heads toward me.

I smiled at them—Mia already seemed right at home sitting on worn wooden chairs that had been there as long as I could remember. She pulled out her earbuds and said, “That was a long run. How are you still standing?”

I went to her, kissing her temple. “Just did eight miles, then I had a few errands to run... Want to get changed into jeans? I have a surprise for you.”

She gave me a curious smile that lit her soft blue eyes. “Sure,” she said, getting up. As she walked to the bedroom, I called, “Wear boots.”

Once she was gone, Bryce lowered his headphones to hang around his neck and pretended to crack a whip.

I rolled my eyes at him. “One day, you’ll understand.”

“I hope not,” he retorted. Then he folded his arms across his chest, looking up at me skeptically. “So what were these errands you had to run?”

“It’s a surprise. For Mia. Not for you, college boy ,” I teased, using the nickname Hayes had especially or him.

He shook his head exasperatedly, looking so much like Fletcher it was crazy. “If I hear from Hayes one more time that I should have gone to trade school...”

I leaned up against the wall. “You know how it is. Everyone thinks their way is the right one.”

Bryce tilted his head. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking he should have a business degree to run that shop.”

“Nah,” I replied. “Running that shop’s an education all its own.”

“There you go, sounding like Hayes again,” Bryce grumbled.

I smiled at my little brother. “Time gives the best perspective.”

“Okay, fortune cookie.”

Mia’s boots clacked on the floor as she came into the kitchen, and damn, did she look good in denim and leather. Paired with a flowy white blouse, she looked like country heaven. I took her under my arm, kissing her temple.

“Help,” Bryce said, making prayer hands. “He’s giving me life advice.”

Mia looked up at me, smiling. “Is it good at least?”

“Yes,” I answered at the same time Bryce said, “No.”

She chuckled, shoulders shaking under my arm. “So, what’s this surprise?” she asked me.

“It’s outside, waiting for you. Let’s go.”