A Father's Requiem

A Father's Requiem

There was no one in the park tonight. He didn't expect anyone to be here anyway since it was a quarter past one. It was just Evan beside him, wearing his favorite blue jacket with the white trimmings along the zipper, leading to the collar and the red scarf around his neck.

It was just how he liked it--no one around to whisper under their breath, like they all do. But he knew.

"Pa?" Evan uttered quietly as he rest his head on his father's shoulder. The sudden connection warmed the father's heart immediately, and a broken smile eventually formed. "Aren't you cold, pa?"

The father took a moment before looking down at his worn grey coat and let out a very soft sigh. He threw his arm around Evan and held him tightly. His toes were slowly going numb as the cold air seeped through the holes of his tattered boots. He wanted to nod his head but he also didn't want to worry Evan, the boy of only eight years. "I'm fine, son" he finally drew the words out.

A biker made his way into the park and stopped immediately by the bench the father and son sat by. He pulled something covered in tinfoil from his pocket that made the father's stomach rev like an engine. The sound traveled to the biker and he began to stare at the father with disgust.

"If you're not going to finish that..." the father started, but the biker let out a ferocious burp and threw what was in his hand into a trashcan.

The man mounted the bike and fixed his helmet back in place. "I bought that sandwich for myself," he hissed as he locked his helmet in place. "If you want a donation, go down to the church in the morning, pig." The biker then pedaled away, slowly becoming one with the darkness in the distance.

"Pa?" Evan pushed away his father's arm. "Let's go find you something to eat. Please?" he pleaded. The boy knew his father disliked begging very much. He'd only do it if the boy were hungry.

The father placed his hand over his stomach, and again, it began to growl viciously. "Fine," he said tiredly, "but you must eat first." Evan smiled immediately and jumped off the bench. They held hands as they left the park and made their way down the busy city streets.

Looks of disgust were fired at him from every direction. He held Evan closer and held the tears back to prevent worrying the boy. There was a restaurant a few blocks away from the park he went to in hopes of scavenging scraps of food. Occasionally, Lisa, a waitress in the restaurant would come out from the back to give the boy and his father a plate of food.

Unfortunately, she was not there tonight.

"Go on, eat it," the father smiled at the boy as he held a bread roll that was already bitten into. "That was me" he lied. The boy believed his father easily and quickly consumed the entire roll.

A man wearing an apron and chef hat emerged from the kitchen exit with a trashcan in hand and stared at the man and his son. "You should eat before that mutt," he said disgustingly as he placed the trashcan down. "You can always find another in this city." The door closed behind him, airing out the sweet smell of pastries from inside.

Again, the father's stomached growled viciously. This time, he was too distracted by his sorrow to acknowledge his great hunger. His son didn't understand most of what other people would say about him. He only knew of the love and compassion people had to offer to him and his father. Only at those time people showed affection towards him, he truly smiles.

"Pa, let's search that fridge!" Evan said excitingly. "The next one we find is for you."

The father could cry every time he saw that his son didn't understand how cruel the world could be. He'll never be able to explain to him how dark people could be and how cold the world really is. All he'll ever know is his father's love for him.

That night they were able to scavenge enough food to leave them content. They returned to the park and sat on the bench they favored amongst the others. Evan's head rested on his father's lap while his father hummed a soft tune. Quickly, the boy fell asleep.



"Hey!" a vicious shout woke the father almost immediately from his sleep. "This is no place for people like you to sleep!" his voice was as sharp as the morning chill. Evan smiled at the man but he shot a look of disgust back at the boy. "And get this thing out of here! I ought to call the police and have him taken away."

The father rose to his feet quickly with his fists clenched. All the anger and pain he's bottled up for so long has finally broken free. "You will not take my child away!" his voice was much sharper than the man who woke him, causing the man to change his face from determined and threatening to a scared and defenseless expression. "You will not do such a thing!"

The father's hand rose above the man and Evan began to cry. He turned his head to his son who was now hiding behind his hands, wishing his father would return to his gentle self. People began to stare which brought the familiar fear the father felt every day.

The man who woke up the father took a step back nervously and shook his head, "I'm--I'm sorry sir," he stuttered. "Just," he stopped and watched as the father's hand slowly lowered, "never mind." The man then walked away, leaving the father and his son alone.

"I'm sorry," the father said as he quickly sat beside his son and wrapped his arms around him. "I won't ever do that again," he fought back the tears, "I promise."

People began to whisper as they carefully walked by the favored bench and the father heard every familiar word.

What a strange man...

How could he live like that?

I feel bad for them.

The father's arms secured Evan even tighter as the tears finally escaped. They trickled down the sides of his face, into his son's hair. Still, people watched; and again, the bottle began to fill with all of his negative emotions. His only fear was losing him--his son--Evan.

"Pa," the boy muttered as he endured his father's sobbing, "I know you're trying, pa. I know you're trying to make me happy. But do you know what would make me the happiest?"

The father pushed away from his son, his eyes red from the tears he's shed. "What could that be?" he asked, wiping his face with his coat.

"For you to be happy." Evan pushed away the remaining tears from his father's face with the sleeve of his jacket.

The boy then rested his head back on his father's laps again. The father, breathless, tried to fight back another wave of tears as the boy's word lingered in his mind. His hands roamed the child's head in a circular motion and he sat there, thinking about the boy's future.



Laughter was in the air. Parents have brought their children to the park to let them play while they escaped to their novels and phones. Evan watched happily as the other children chased each other around the fenced area.

"Do you want to play with them?" the father asked. He found today's newspaper and peered into a section that could determine the boy's future.

Evan shook his head quickly. "I don't want to leave you."

"Don't worry about me, son. I'm only reading the paper. Go on and play, then later we'll go visit Lisa--she's working today." The father smiled at his son, insisting that he play with the others. The boy finally gave in and ran off to play with the others.

Time passed quickly and the sun began to set. Before the father was able to call out to his son, the man who woke him in the morning approached him...with company.

"Yeah, that's him right there! In the grey coat!" the man shouted. The father quickly realized the two men behind him were cops. "He's been sleeping here for months now and causing a disturbance every day with that...thing in the park!" he pointed at Evan. But the boy didn't notice his father, or the policemen.

The father could only sit still as he tried to find a way to call out to his son without alarming the policemen. But nothing came to mind before one of cops approached him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us. This wasn't the first complaint we've received..." the rest was gibberish. The father could only focus on trying to call out to his happy son. "Sir? Are you listening?"

"Yes" the father quietly, his eyes continued following his son. "Can I--" his hand went up, pointing towards the park. "Can I just get my son?"

The policeman before him searched the park, confused, and turned back to the father. "Sir, there are no children present. Please, put your hands on your head and don't make any sudden moves."

Evan continued chasing the other children and continued to miss his father's current situation. The policeman searched him and stopped as he found the father's wallet. Inside, there was a picture of the father with his son beside him. The both of them had such great smiles on their faces. The policeman then looked up and searched the park one more time. "I'm sorry sir, but your son isn't here. After we settle everything here down at the station, we'll find your son, okay?"

The father's knees began to tremble. His heart began to race as he felt the cold metal rings being slapped around both his wrists. The policemen then guided the father towards their car as the man from that morning watched with a sinister smile.

Finally, Evan caught his father being guided across the street and into a car. The boy darted through the other children and squeezed through the closed fence, hoping he can reach his father in time.

"Ah!" a woman shrieked. "He got out! Someone stop him!"

But no one bothered to stop the boy in the blue jacket. The father saw his saw son running towards him and painfully turned his head to find traffic had begun to move. His heart slowed and he couldn't find the words to shout to direct the policemen's attention out his window. There was nothing, at all, the father could've done to prevent what happened next.

His son was running towards him very slowly with the same smile in the photo. The same blue jacket and red scarf the boy wore that day. The same cheerful look on his face as he ran towards his father, hoping to catch up and gingerly enter the car to sit beside his father once more.

The father's jaw dropped and his eyes filled with tears once more as he saw his son lying on the cold cement. People quickly crowded the street and shouts could be heard faintly from inside--but even more faintly to the father. Eventually, his son wasn't in sight. The policemen rushed back outside of the car and pushed their way through the crowd of people.

The path they cleared was open enough for the father to see his son one last time. One last time, in the boy's blue jacket and red scarf. The father cried so painfully as his head fell against the window.

What seemed like minutes passed by and the father finally spun around in his seat and kicked through the glass window. He reached for the handle on the other side quickly and opened the door. Something warm trickled down into his palms as he shoved his way through the crowd.

It was quiet, to him. He knew people were gasping as he passed by and caught up with the policemen. But their whispers can no longer reach him. The policemen forced him to the ground, right in front of his son and held him tightly.

What was it to him?

You think it was his?

I've seen him in the park with it a few times before... They just sat there.

The father knew all along.

He knew his son was already gone, but he couldn't cope with his loss.

"Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!" a woman shouted viciously as she pushed through the crowd. "Jon!" the woman cried out as she approached the father. It was Lisa. But she froze in place as she saw the father's wrists were sliced open.

The father knew all along that his son had already passed away. His marriage with Lisa fell apart shortly after. What he lost after that was his job, his home, and eventually his own family. And now, his very own life was slowly slipping away as his palms filled with the warm blood escaping his wrists.



His body collapsed beside Evan's, his dog that never left his nor his son's side. He didn't feel what he feared his son would eventually learn. Instead, the father felt at peace as the sirens from the ambulance blared.



The father's eyes closed. His son's smile was his final thought.