The sun was just beginning to break through the clouds of the eastern sky as he walked toward the grave of his son. It had been less than a week since they place his body in that grave and already he could not remember what the fight had been about. Something to do with his son wanting to go somewhere and his saying no until they got into one of those familiar fights that so often drove deep wedges between them. He did not remember why he had not wanted him to go, just that he had said so and that should be enough. But now he would never say yes and never say no again. The tears blocked his vision of the still fresh dirt that covered the grave, his body wanted to shake, his head wanted to explode, and his voice wanted to shout, “I am sorry son!” but there was no one to hear and no way for the words to reach through that awful dirt. Sixteen years that was all he had to touch, speak, and hold his son; too little time, not a lifetime, it should have been a lifetime and his son should be standing here and the grave should be his, but it was not so and not all the time and tears and screams would change that certain fact. He said in a low tear filled voice, “Son I wish I had known about today, about the wreck last week, about the shortness of our time. Son, O my son how I wish I had been a better father.” He turned to walk toward the car and in his heart he saw the visions of thousands of fathers coming to say the same to their sons. On Sunday with tears streaming down his face he would say, “Live now, love now, use now, for it can be so very short and then it can never be again.” Ivan

Published in: on October 15, 2014 at 10:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

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