by LJ Jacobs
We went to the beach like we used to every Saturday, only this time it was me, my six-year-old son, David, and his Balloon Daddy.
The beach isn’t far from our home and is our favourite place to walk, but we haven’t been for a while.
I thought it would be a nice change of scenery, but most of all I thought it would do David and I the world of good to get some fresh sea air.
We’d been cooped up for far too long these past few weeks.
“Mummy, it’s so busy,” said David, trying to hide behind me, “there’re lots of people about!”
“That’s because the sun’s out and the weather’s getting warmer!” I said. It dawned on me there’d been frost the last time we were here. Now there was a gorgeous sun. Time sure did fly. “Keep an eye out, David, you may see some of your friends from school.”
“I’ve already seen Farah and Marlon,: said David, pointing excitedly. “They’re over there, digging a big hole in the sand. I think they want to dig all the way to the other side of the world… Look at how deep they’re going. They’ll soon be in Australia!”
“We should go and say hello,” I suggested, “and maybe the twins will let you play with them.”
His little fingers tightened around the taut line of ribbon attached to the ball of helium above us. “I can’t,” he said, sternly, “it’d mean letting go of Balloon Daddy and he’ll float away… He’ll leave me… again…”
“You could ask to watch them while you still hold it,” I suggested.
“Ok,” he said.
We walked over, side by side, the balloon bobbing on the breeze behind us.
The balloon was a week old and was starting to show signs of deflation. It was still floating, though. It had ‘Happy 45th’ written on it and a photograph of David’s father - hence why David referred to it as Balloon Daddy - but the face on it looked more like a sixty-year-old’s. It wasn’t the illness that had aged him, though - he still looked good even when he finally closed his eyes last Monday, if a bit thinner - it was purely the deflation process that put wrinkles where there hadn’t been wrinkles before.
He had still been David’s cuddly daddy and my handsome husband right up to his brave end…
We approached Farah and Marlon as they dug with all their might below a small dune. Their mummy and daddy sat behind them on a picnic blanket. I waved in greeting and they all cheerily smiled and waved back.
It was such a lovely family scene.
“Hello,” I said to the twins. “David was wondering if it’d be ok to watch you both play?”
“Sure,” Farah said. “You can join in if you want to, David… I have another spade here…”
“If it’s ok with you and Marlon,” I said, “David would just like to watch. Could he sit here and watch you?”
“Sure,” repeated Farah.
David knelt at the side of the hole, still holding the balloon tight. They all started talking about Farah and Marlon’s plan to dig the biggest hole ever! (‘…for the Guinness Book of records!’) There was a lot of giggling over it.
I sat with the twins’ parents and we talked, all the while I kept an eye on David. His fingers never loosened once on the thin strip of material.
Balloon Daddy twirled slowly above.
Our conversation was nice and polite, but nothing was dwelled upon about what had happened to David, and I was glad - a conversation about the death of my husband on, of all days, his birthday would be as pointless [KR1] as the disease that took him. It was referenced briefly in a ‘We’re thinking about you’ and ‘If you need anything, let us know’. I said a sincere thank you and we carried on with our pleasantries and talking about the children.
The twins’ parents were also good enough not to draw attention to the party balloon I had made which was now David’s comforter.
Farah suddenly presented an idea to Marlon and David. “I know, let’s build a castle!”
David jumped up, excited, and momentarily loosened his grip on the balloon.
I leaned forward, hopeful.
Perhaps now would be the moment…
A centimetre slipped away, but he quickly remembered his Balloon Daddy and snatched the string back. He looked sad that he could have done such a thing.
You’ll have to sometime, I thought.
“I’ll just watch,” insisted David. “I don’t want to let go of my dad- I mean… my balloon.”
Farah and Marlon filled and emptied bucket after bucket of sand and soon built their castle.
I saw David still looking slightly sad every now and then. Was it because of his near mishap with the balloon or was it because he really wanted to play now but felt he couldn’t?
Was it guilt?
No child should be held back with such heavy emotions, I thought. I don’t want that. His daddy wouldn’t want that. I wished he’d play.
Marlon declared, “Let’s go to the water and get our feet wet!”
Surprisingly, David took his shoes and socks off one-handed and followed the twins the short distance to the lovely blue sea. The twins started splashing and giggling. They made David howl with laughter.
Marlon scooped a handful of water and threw it at David. It got him on the face. David’s laughter intensified. It was lovely to see the change.
“Go on, David,” said Farah, “Give it him back double.”
I looked at David’s fingers. They started to loosen their grip as his interest in the play increased. Slowly… Slowly… Then… the ribbon was free.
And so was the balloon.
David didn’t notice as the birthday balloon with his daddy’s picture on it floated high above their innocent splashing and uncontrollable laughing.
I knew there’d eventually come a realisation. I knew there’d be tears and cries of, -Where’s daddy? Where’s my daddy gone?
But for the moment I saw it as a big first step.
An important lesson in not being held back by grief… and letting go.
***
LJ Jacobs was born in Chester, England and raised in North Wales. He lives in a small hamlet and enjoys the quiet life. Most of his days are spent working in the aviation industry - it puts food on the table if not an enthusiasm in the heart. He loves music and writing. His heroes are the bluesman Robert Johnson and the author Ernest Hemingway. He enjoys gentle sports and is a player of poker and chess.
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