The Boy and His Father

The boy had many friends as he grew up, some he still talked to and some he did not. He had moved many times but now he was a man and he felt he had moved for the last time. He had met a girl and she was the one, he was sure. She had been with him when times were bad and even though they argued he still loved her more than life.

Time went by. The boy and girl had a child: the circle was now complete. He could not think of anything that could be any better than that. Years went by. The boy grew up: he looked up to his daddy as he was his best friend. One day a tragedy occurred. The man woke up and his life was a shambles. He couldn't understand what had gone wrong. The woman he loved and the child he had reared were gone. He tried to pretend it was not real; that it was a dream, but after a few hours he realized it was true. He sat down. He remembered the times they had spent together; the joys, the sorrows, the fights, and the makeups. What had happened to take all that away? He stood and shook his head. He had to go to work. He couldn't reflect on it. She would come back to him and bring his son. After all, didn't she love him still?

The days turned into weeks and the woman did not come home, she didn't come by or call. He wondered if she was alright. He wondered if she still loved him as she had told him those many days before as they made love. He wondered if his son still remembered who he was. He missed them. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to promise her that whatever it was he had done; he would make sure it didn't happen again if only she would talk to him or call.

The weeks turned into months and he stopped wishing she would come. He realized she didn't really love him after all: she was just playing with his affections. His friends told him to move on, find another, she didn't deserve him; but he couldn’t. She was the one he wanted. He didn't want another. Soon his friends stopped coming by. They didn't want to hear any more about the girl or the child but it seemed to be the only thing he wanted to talk about. Soon he was alone with only his memories.

The months turned into years, his family didn't see much of him. Oh, they knew he was alive because he called once in awhile, but he never came by. All they had was his voice.

As the years went by, the man got older. He still remembered the girl of his dreams even though he never saw her again after that day. She was still in his memory and of the things she had left behind. He would walk around and touch her little possessions. He had left them as she had, just in case. Deep down he knew she was not coming back, but he couldn't bring himself to throw anything away.

One day there was a knock at the door, he couldn't understand who it could be. No one came to see him anymore. He was no longer any fun to be around. He rose from the chair to go see who it was. He opened the door to find a young man he didn't know standing there. Was he was trying to sell him something?

He asked, "Are you selling something?"

The young man replied telling him he had come to see him, that he was his son. The man stepped back and clutched his chest. How could this person be his son? He remembered he had a son a long time ago, but he had never seen him after that day and yet this person said he was his son. Was that possible?

The young man grabbed him asking, “Are you alright?”

The older man nodded saying, “Yes, I am fine. Come in,” and stepped aside to allow the young man in.

The young man stepped in and the older man watched as he looked around. He could tell the young man didn't remember this place. He had been a little boy when his mother had taken him away. Still, he walked around looking at the possessions the man had kept. The pictures on the wall of himself when he was small; pictures of his mother too. He felt a tear run down his face, he had come to tell him that his mother was very ill. He didn't know how the man would take it but it was something he had to do. He had promised.

“Can I get you a drink?” asked the older man.

“No, I am fine,” he replied thinking of his promise. “I wanted to see you.”

“I have photos of you that I carry with me. They are old now. You were much younger then.” The old man nodded staring at the younger man.

“Why have you come?" he asked. "Is your mother with you?”

The young man shook his head.

“I have come to tell you that she is ill. I promised her I would find you and bring you to her.”

The old man stared at him, then he shook his head.

“She doesn't want to see me. It is why she left those many years ago.”

“Please sir,” he pleaded, “I have made a promise. I don't know how much time she has left.”

The older man walked to the closet and put on his jacket before following the young man out the door.

It seemed like they’d driven forever when finally they stopped. The younger man got out and ran around the car to help his father get out. Together they walked inside the building, took the elevator up and exited.

As they walked down the hall, the man wondered why he had not asked him any questions while they drove. They stopped in front of the door, the man turned and spoke,

“Remember she is very sick, but she asked that I find you. Go inside, I will wait out here.

He turned to his son,

“No,” he said. “You come with me, please.”

His son nodded, pushed open the door and together they walked inside.

He walked over to the bed. Though it had been many years, she was still the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with. She looked at him and tried to smile. She tried to reach for him, but she did not have the strength. He sat in the nearby chair, pulling it over so he was closer as he took her hand.

“Hello,” he said.

She coughed, then she looked at him again.

“I wanted to tell you I was sorry,” she spoke in a raspy voice. “I was angry those many years ago. It was something stupid, but I was young and I thought I was right. I should have sat down and talked it over with you, but instead, I just left and took your son. I was foolish and I wanted to tell you I was wrong.”

She coughed again and closed her eyes.

He felt tears running down his face. He still loved her and now she was leaving him forever. Will I be able to survive?

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Her eyes opened again to see her son who looked so much like his father and the man she had hurt so badly those years before. There was no way she could change what had happened she knew. No way to make up for lost time.

She had been foolish. She had let her pride take hold and now it was too late. She watched as the man she loved got up to gently lean over and kiss her.

“I love you,” he said. “That will never change.”

She tried to smile, “I love you too,” she said and closed her eyes again.

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He knew she would not open them again. She was gone. He sat down again and cried. He had lost her forever and he would never know why she had left. The doctors came in and did what doctors do. It was all a blur. Soon the young man took his hand and they left.

At the funeral, people came up to him that he only vaguely remembered and said how sorry they were. He nodded a few times. After awhile, he stopped. There was no point. They were just words. It wouldn't bring her back. His son took him back to his house; the one he had shared with her all those years. The one he had stayed in after she left hoping she would return.

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He watched as the father he didn't know walked from room to room. He could see he was remembering and suffering.

“You don't have to stay,” his father said to him.

“I am fine. It's alright. I can stay as long as you want.” He told his father and the man nodded and walked into his bedroom and closed the door.

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He was tired. He changed his clothes and lay down on their bed. He closed his eyes. He saw her in his dreams. She was young again and they were together. He smiled as he took her hand and they walked away.

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The son walked into the bedroom to see how his father was and saw that he had died in his sleep. He sat down and he too cried. Now he had no one. He had lost both of them.

He got up, made a phone call, then he went into the room and waited. Soon after, the doorbell rang. He walked over and opened the door. Standing there was a young woman and a child.

“Come in,” he said.

“Did you get to tell him?” she asked.

He shook his head, “He died before I could.”

She reached over and gave him a hug. Looking through the books, photos, and letters she too cried. He had loved her so much and he had died before he knew he had a grandchild.