Finding Wade in the Park
I darted out of the support group room, my heart racing. I had to find Wade before it was too late. The cold evening air hit my face as I left the building, guiding me toward the nearby park. As I neared the swings, I spotted him on a bench, hunched over, staring at something in his hands.
“Wade?” I called softly, my voice barely rising above the rustling leaves. He looked up, his face shadowed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I just wanted them to know I care.”
I sat beside him, heart aching at his vulnerability. “It’s okay. They just don’t understand. I want to understand,” I replied, glancing at the small photo he held—a boy with a bright smile, leaning against a tree. “This is your son?”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “His name was Cody. Everything changed the day I lost him.”
“What happened?” I asked, fully aware I was crossing a delicate boundary.
“I was supposed to protect him.” His voice cracked, the weight of those words pressing down on me. “We were out riding bikes. I thought I was fine... but I wasn’t. I never should have driven that day.”
I felt my throat tighten, the air thickening with emotion. “You were just a dad...”
“No, I was reckless,” he interrupted, his eyes darkening. “He didn’t deserve that. I’m trying to redeem myself by being here. But how can I deserve love again?”
The pain in his voice shot through me. I wanted to tell him he was worthy, but the words felt too small. I reached out, resting a hand on his arm. “You’re trying, Wade. That matters.”
