Like Son, Like Father

By Jon Moray

“Are you going on the bus to church this morning?” asked Peter, expecting a negative response.

“Is God going to be there?” huffed Harry.”

“Of course,” cheered Peter.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, sporting a disgusted snarl. “No. Besides, my son and I are going on a nature walk…and here he is, right on time, as always.”

“Like father, like son,“ Peter lamented, recalling Harry’s obsession with punctuality.

Peter and Harry were residents in a retirement village in South Florida. Every morning a bus would take a group to morning mass, except for Harry. Harry held the ongoing, all-time record at the village for consecutive days without riding the bus.

Harry and his son William exchanged pleasantries and headed out.

They exited the village and made the two mile drive over to the trail void of conversation, with soft rock music on the radio providing a pleasant audio backdrop. William parked his SUV in the gravel lot, and the two ventured toward the mouth of the trail. Leaf crunching steps, and a low whistle from Harry echoed as they encroached further into the woods.

William exhaled deeply, exclaiming, “Isn’t the trees, the birds, and the serenity a great gift from God?”

“What’s with you and God?” Harry grunted. “I never taught you much, much less about God. God never did anything for me.”

William paused a moment while spying a redbird, carefully planning his reply. “You taught me plenty, Dad. Just because we barely talked much when I was growing up doesn’t mean you didn’t educated me.” William continued with a cracking voice of how his dad lead by example, from watching him prepare for work with ample time to ensure an early arrival to the office, to never cussing, even though his buddies always did. He also added several instances where his dad kept his temper to diffuse potential volatile situations with several family members during holiday events.

“You were always the peacemaker in the face of turmoil. You carried yourself well, Dad, and I noticed,” William uttered, with focused eyes.

They ambled along, commenting on the glistening sun peeking through the tall oaks, rendering beams that shadowed the trail. The old man loved the tranquility of a walk in the tree filled woods aided by the nudge of a gentle breeze.

“I’ve seen too much tragedy in this world to believe in a higher power. An almighty entity could’ve and should’ve prevented the mess that has gone on in this earth,” Harry blurted out, as if he was holding in the sentiment far too long and was looking for the perfect time for release.

William eyes glossed in sight of his dad before he turned away, leading him to another trail that split the main trail but would eventually arc back. He quietly pondered his dad’s statement, while recalling the tragedies his old man endured over his life. From watching a buddy die on in war, to battling ailments including diabetes and skin cancer. Every setback, every trauma and tragedy, diminished the ultra limited faith Harry had in anything. 

They continued on, snaking around down tree limbs and protruding roots, without trading words. They made it back to the SUV and headed home.

While waiting for the green light at a busy intersection, they noticed a man with tattered, dirt stained clothes laboring to cross the street. Suddenly, as the light changed,  the man dropped to his knees and his momentum threw him to the ground. William put his vehicle in park, and rushed out to assist, while an oncoming truck emerged in their path. William quickly shielded the man with arms out and eyes clenched shut. The truck screeched to a stop, but not before tapping William over the man and tumbling onto the asphalt, landing on his back. William quickly shook off the shock and helped the man to his feet. The man thanked William and explained he was heading to the homeless shelter just up the road. Another of the meek volunteered to make sure the man reached his destination.

William jumped back into his vehicle. Harry sat in reflection, intermittingly spying the road and his son as he drove off, wanting to say something but couldn’t put the words together. Silence drowned out the radio music until William dropped his dad off back at the village.

“See you next weekend, Dad?” William asked, through the passenger side window.

“Sure thing, Son.”

That night Harry replayed the traffic incident non-stop in his thoughts until he succumbed to the subconscious. He awoke the next day, showered, dressed, and prepared for his normal day.

Like clockwork, Peter approached his open doorway.

“Are you going on the bus to church this morning?” asked Peter.

Harry drew a deep sigh, searched the tiled ceiling with shifty eyes, and looked over at a framed picture of William that set on the night table. “Today, I am going to church,” he said, in a voice just over a whisper.

“Like son, like father,” Peter beamed.