“A MUSICIAN? Have you lost your mind, Leonard?” My husband, Kenneth, snapped when my son declared his desire to pursue a career in the music.
Leonard was eighteen years old, fresh out of the high school, and eager to follow his passion. However, his father and I wanted him to become a lawyer, which Leonard did not want to be.
He had taken a gap year after high school because he did not want to rush into the career decisions, and he discovered that music was the something he really wanted to pursue. However, when he declared his desire to become a musician, his parents were anything but impressed.
“But what is wrong with becoming a musician, dad?” Leonard grumbled. “There are so many people who followed their passion and are very successful now. I want to be one of them! I do not want to do a boring desk job!”
“Look, son,” my husband continued. “I have made my decision quite clear, and I do not want to repeat myself. You are going to become a successful lawyer just like your grandfather and me. Is that clear?”
“There is no way, Dad!” Leonard shot back. “You cannot force me to do the something I do not want to do! I want to pursue my passion, music, and that is what I will do!”
“But honey,” I intervened. “Your father is not pressuring you. He just does not want you to waste your time over the something that is not even certain. You see, so many people have big dreams, but only a handful achieves them. He is just worried about you and does not want you to suffer.”
“Oh really, mom?” Leonard snapped. “If he really cares about me, he should support me!”
“Calm down, Leonard. Do not forget you are talking to your parents!” his father warned him. “If you want to make your own decisions, why do not you pay for your university? If you stay with us, you have to listen to us and obey us. Otherwise, get lost!”
“Fine, dad!” Leonard said. “I will prove to you guys one day how wrong you are. I do not want to be your obligation anyway. I will make money as well as a name for myself!” Leonard said and walked away to his room.
I, Lily, advised him to calm down and talk things out the sometime later, but he was furious. He packed his bags that evening and walked out of the house, vowing never to return.
I kept requesting him not to do that. I even tried convincing Kenneth to stop our son, but the man was so adamant about his decisions that he did not budge at all. At the same time, even Leonard did not care. He was hell-bent on proving his parents wrong, so he left the house that evening, severing all the ties with us.
Three years passed without any contact between Leonard and us. I was frequently concerned about my son, so I tried calling him a few times, but all of my calls went to the voicemail, and Leonard never returned them.
However, while I was preparing breakfast one morning, my phone rang. I quickly wiped my hands and dashed to answer it, but what I heard on the other end of the line made me feel disoriented.
It was a phone call informing me that Leonard, my son, had died. The young boy was involved in a motorcycle accident and died before reaching the hospital.
I burst into tears, unable to accept the death of my beloved son. “No way! That cannot happen! Nothing has happened to my son!” I sobbed loudly enough to summon Kenneth, who was taken aback when he saw me on our living room floor, clutching my phone and crying my heart out.
“Honey, what is the matter?” Kenneth asked worriedly. But I could not respond.
Kenneth snatched the phone from my grasp at that point. “Hello? Who is this?”
“This is Officer Duncan calling, sir. We regret to inform you that your son, Leonard Williams, died this morning in a motorcycle accident. We would appreciate it if you could come as soon as possible to confirm the boy’s body is Leonard’s. We found your phone number in his phone and called you.”
Kenneth could not believe what he was hearing. “Are you sure, officer, that is our Leonard? This…this cannot be…”
“Look, sir. We found this contact on the victim’s phone. This number was listed as ‘mom.’ Either way, you should come and confirm the body. Thank you,” Officer Duncan said before hanging up.
Kenneth and I were heartbroken. We rushed from Chicago to Milwaukee, where the officer had said Leonard’s body was, hoping that the everything we had heard was a mistake or a bad dream that would pass quickly.
However, when we arrived at the morgue, we could not believe the lifeless boy, the pale-skinned body, was our son. I sobbed on the floor, and Kenneth had a stream of the tears streaming down his cheeks.
We organized our son’s funeral the next day in Milwaukee—too heartbroken to bring him to our hometown, the place which had marked the beginning of our estranged relationship—and bid Leonard farewell. But the loss of our son strained our relationship.
Kenneth became extremely quiet, drinking heavily and cursing himself deep down for being a terrible father, as I continued to blame him for kicking our son out of our home.
In the days that followed, Kenneth never bothered to accompany me to Leonard’s grave. He felt guilty about confronting his son, and he could never muster enough courage to face him. I, on the other hand, drove two hours to visit my son’s grave every day.
One day, I had just arrived at Leonard’s grave when I noticed a small teddy bear near it. I removed it and set it aside, thinking someone must have left it there by the mistake, replaced it with the bouquet I had bought, and sat there talking to my son for a while before leaving.
However, when I returned to the grave the next day, the teddy bear was there again, and this time there were several toys with it.
I was perplexed at this point as to whether they had been left there on the purpose. I asked the caretaker if he knew anything, but he said he did not.
I left the cemetery that day, wondering who could be bringing the toys to my son’s grave, but when I returned the next day, all my doubts vanished.
I had just arrived at the cemetery that day when I noticed a young woman standing in front of Leonard’s grave, holding a baby in her arms. The woman’s eyes were closed like she was praying. After a few minutes, she placed a toy near Leonard’s grave and walked away.
I could not contain my curiosity and decided to approach her. “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know my son? I just noticed you placed a toy near his grave. Are you the one who has been doing it for the days?”
The woman looked a little stunned. “Are you Lily Williams? Leonard’s mother?”
“You know me?” My eyes widened.
“Of course, Mrs. Williams,” the woman said, her eyes welling up. I sensed a strange fear and the worry in her tears. “I am Carrie. I am Leonard’s girlfriend. And this baby is Henry, our son.”
I could not believe my eyes when I looked at the child. The baby was an exact replica of my late son! “But Leonard, he never…”
“I never imagined we would meet like this, Mrs. Williams,” Carrie stated. “Leonard missed you terribly. He was hoping to reconnect with you, but…” The woman almost burst into tears.
I consoled her, then the two of us walked to a nearby park. As Carrie sat there wiping her tears, she revealed the whole story to me.
It turned out Leonard met Carrie when he came to her town to pursue his dreams. However, due to the lack of funds, he began working as a part-time waiter at a diner to support himself, and it was there that he met Carrie.
The two moved in together, and more than a year later, Carrie got pregnant. Leonard was overjoyed! He wrote a song dedicated to his future child, which was not a big hit but received a lot of attention in some US states.
That inspired him to take the next step in his career, and he began knocking on the doors of various producers. Some even agreed to collaborate with him. However, the tragedy struck Carrie and Leonard when the man was involved in an accident.
That very morning, Carrie was rushed to the hospital due to the labor pains. A neighbor had called the ambulance for her, and she had no idea Leonard was involved in an accident. She was unconscious for a few days after the delivery, and when she woke up, she learned Leonard had passed away.
The woman could not stop crying and began visiting his grave almost daily. The toys she had been leaving were the ones Leonard had purchased for their child.
“I did not know what to do when I found out he had died,” Carrie went on. “The cops… they tracked my address through Leonard’s driver’s license, and that is how I found out he was no longer alive. They also said that you and Mr. Williams had planned the funeral in Milwaukee. I contacted the cemeteries one by one and discovered Leonard was here.”
“I wanted to meet you one day but did not know how to. Leonard loved you, and he promised that when he became famous, he would call you and his father here, and all of us would live happily as a family. But sadly, that did not happen.”
I could not contain my tears when I heard that. I had already lost my son, and I did not want to lose my grandson as well. So I invited Carrie and Henry to move in with me, asserting that they were as much a part of my family as Leonard. The young lady was hesitant at first but eventually agreed when I insisted.
Thanks to that fateful day, Kenneth’s and my lives changed for the better. Kenneth became a loving grandfather to Henry, and seeing him care for the little boy caused me to become more patient and understanding with him, which improved our relationship.
Carrie considers herself fortunate to have met Kenneth and me, who are wonderful grandparents to Henry. We also helped her get Leonard’s song published by a well-known label.
Carrie says Henry, who is five years old now, is incredibly proud of his father’s career as a musician and aspires to follow in his father’s footsteps, and Kenneth and I are fully supportive of Henry.
I learned the truth from this story: anger and impatience only complicate the things. Kenneth and Leonard strained their relationship to the point that the boy severed the ties with his father and me. It is not always easy, but having a big heart and acceptance sometimes makes the things right. My relationship with Kenneth had improved since I welcomed Carrie and Henry into my home and accepted them as my family.
