It was a parent’s worst nightmare come true when the Wesenbergs lost their little son Ted one Sunday afternoon. Unfortunately, it happened in a place that was supposed to be the safest for the family, where nothing should have gone wrong, yet everything did.
The Wesenbergs found Ted dead in their swimming pool. His body was floating like a pool float, and Paul Wesenberg had dived into the water to save his son, but it was too late—neither his mouth-to-mouth nor the paramedics he’d dialed could bring his son back.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Linda Wesenberg couldn’t bear the sorrow of losing her son, and she sat as pale, numb, and motionless as her late son at his funeral. Then as a week went by without Ted in the Wesenberg household, things turned chaotic, brutal even, and so harsh that little Clark couldn’t stand it…
Linda and Paul were struggling to cope with their loss, and they fought every day, every time. Clark heard loud noises from his parents’ room every night, and his mommy would get frustrated and eventually cry.
His daddy would blame his mommy for Ted’s death, and his mommy would blame everything on his daddy. Clark hid under his blanket every night, clutching his teddy bear and sobbing whenever he heard his parents bickering.
No loss is so profound that love cannot heal it.
When Ted was there with him, things had been so different. Their parents rarely argued back then, and his mommy was never sad and upset. She would kiss him goodnight and hug him before she tucked him in bed, but she no longer did any of that now.
She had also stopped making breakfast and often stayed in bed, telling him she was ill. Paul always made them toast and eggs for breakfast now, and he had started arriving home early to prepare dinner for them, but his cooking was not even close to Linda’s.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Clark missed his brother. He missed Ted so badly that he wished he had gone to the place where his brother was… because their parents no longer cared about their son, who was still alive.
All they cared about was who was to blame for their other son’s death.
One evening, things went from bad to worse. Clark heard his parents arguing again, and he was so frustrated that he couldn’t stand it. “Mommy! Daddy! Please stop!” he yelled as he stormed into their bedroom. “Please stop! I don’t like it when you fight!”
“Look, Paul!” his mother hissed. “I lost Ted because of you, and now Clark hates you!”
“Oh really, Linda?” Paul shot back. “And what about you? I don’t think Clark’s in awe of you!”
Clark’s parents forgot he was in their room and continued to argue. They began blaming each other for Ted’s death again, and Clark decided he didn’t want to stay there any longer. Their home was filled with screams and tears since Ted left, and Clark had started despising his home.
“I hate you both…” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. “I HATE YOU, MOMMY AND DADDY! I don’t want to live with you! I’m going to meet Ted because only he loved me!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Ted ran away from his parents’ room and out the front door. He paused to collect the dahlias he and Ted grew in their garden before running away to Ted’s grave in the cemetery only blocks away from their home.
“Look, you made him cry again. I’m sure you’re relieved now!” Paul snarled.
“I made him cry? Stop acting like I’m the bad person here!”
Linda and Paul continued to bicker, unconcerned about their little son, who’d run away to the cemetery alone. Clark sobbed as he pressed his fingertips against his brother’s gravestone and ran his fingers over the inscription.
“In the beloved memory of Ted Wesenberg,” read the engraving.
Clark bawled his eyes out at the sight of his brother’s grave. He missed Ted so much!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“I… I m—miss you, Ted,” he wept. “Could you please ask the angels to return you?”
“…and mommy and daddy are constantly arguing. Ted, they no longer love me. They hate me, and they don’t care about me. Could you please come back, Ted? Please? Nobody plays football with me, not even daddy…”
Clark had never felt so alone in his life. He placed the dahlias against his brother’s grave and sat down on the prickly grass, telling him about his heart’s concerns and how ignored and forgotten he felt.
Clark couldn’t stop crying as he told Ted how much he missed him, how difficult life was without him, and how much their parents had changed. He complained to him about the burnt breakfasts, how he had stopped growing dahlias, and how lonely he was.
Clark’s heart was so at ease after finally sharing his worries with his brother that he didn’t notice when the hours passed, and the sky darkened. The cemetery became deserted, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. Yet, Clark decided not to go home because it was the first time since Ted’s death that he felt at peace.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, he heard the rustling of dried leaves behind him. Clark looked around in fright. Who could’ve come to the gravesite at this hour? He sprang to his feet in terror as the sound grew louder and louder, still searching about.
Terrified he wasn’t alone, Clark whirled back to run, but he was too late. He saw several men clad in black robes approaching him. Their faces were obscured with hoods, and they held firebrands.
“See who has arrived in our dark kingdom! You shouldn’t have risked coming here, boy!” shouted one of the men.
“Who… who are you?” Clark asked in tears. “Please let me go!”
Clark was shaking in fear and didn’t know how to get himself out of trouble. The men didn’t let him leave.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Clark was terrified of the dudes in robes, but then he heard a man’s booming voice. “Chad, back off! How many times will I tell you not to gather in my graveyard with your idiotic pals dressed in cult garb?”
Clark noticed the tall, well-dressed man in his 50s, as he approached. “Don’t worry, boy,” he said to Clark. “These boys won’t do anything. They’re worse than kids!”
“Oh, c’mon, Mr. Bowen!” The dude who stood face-to-face with Clark pulled off his hood and sighed. “Where else are our cult’s activities intended to take place if not here in a cemetery?”
“How about you stop burning your lousy report cards here and start studying instead? Back off, or I’ll tell your mother you often smoke here! I’m sure you wouldn’t take that chance. Now, you,” he gestured to Clark. “Come here, kid. Let’s get you home.”
Mr. Bowen seemed like a nice man to Clark. He dashed up to him and grasped his outstretched arm. Mr. Bowen took the boy to a small cabin and served him hot chocolate.
“What were you doing here at this hour?” the older man asked Clark.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Mr. Bowen appeared to be a kind man, so Clark opened up to him about his parents and brother, how their lives had turned into a living hell since Ted died, and how he didn’t like his parents and didn’t want to go home.
***
Back home, Linda was panicking. She dialed Paul several times, but he wasn’t answering. It’d been over two hours since Paul left home after their quarrel.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table, venting to her friend on the phone all this while. As soon as she hung up and looked around, it hit her: Clark wasn’t around. Where’s Clark?
Linda’s heart was racing as she looked at the clock. It was past 11 p.m. when she checked Clark’s room and found him missing. Linda then went into the other rooms, the bathrooms, and the backyard, but Clark was nowhere to be found. To her, it was as if he’d vanished into thin air.
She called Paul again, no answer. “Pick your darn phone, Paul!” she cried. “Oh gosh! What do I do now?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Linda paced nervously in her living room. She had no idea where to look for Clark until… she remembered him coming into the bedroom when she and Paul were arguing.
“The cemetery!” she recalled. “He was going to meet Ted!”
Linda grabbed the house keys, locked the door, and hurried to the cemetery. As she turned to the first street, she saw Paul’s car. He pulled over and rolled down his window.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Clark isn’t home yet!” she said, getting inside the car. “Drive to the cemetery now!”
“What the hell?” Paul cried, starting the engine. “But when… did he never come back?”
“No, Paul! We were, well…” she paused. “We were so busy arguing that we didn’t notice!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Paul and Linda hurried to Ted’s grave as soon as they got to the cemetery. But there was no sign of Clark.
“Clark!” Linda shouted. “Honey, where are you?”
Right then, Paul nudged Linda. “Linda!” he cried. “What the hell is going on there!? Look!”
Paul and Linda were taken aback when they noticed a fire in the distance and heard voices performing chants. As they approached the gathering, they saw several teens dressed in black robes performing some sort of ceremony.
“Oh Lord,” Linda cried out. “Could they… have done something to Clark? Oh no, we’ve just lost Ted, and now—”
“Linda, no,” Paul consoled her. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. Wait right here. Excuse me, boys,” he began hesitantly, approaching them. “Is it possible you saw this boy here…”
One of the boys smirked as Paul showed them a photo of Clark. “Your son arrived at the wrong place at the wrong time!” he shouted. “Your son should not have come!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Paul looked intently at the teen, then at his friends. In those robes, they all appeared nothing but dumb, and they’d been burning what appeared to be their grade cards.
“Oh really?” he asked, putting his phone in his back pocket. “Well…” Paul grabbed the boy’s collar and yanked him forward.
“Listen, kid; You’d better speak out, or you’re going home with a broken nose!”
“Woah, woah, okay! Relax!” the boy Paul had warned said. “I’m…I’m Chad! And I saw your son. We did nothing to him! Mr. Bowen, the graveyard guard, grabbed him.”
“What?”
“He… he took your son, sir. I swear. He lives right outside the cemetery! We just come here every night to scare people, that’s all!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
***
When Paul and Linda arrived at Mr. Bowen’s cottage, they noticed Clark and Mr. Bowen seated on a sofa through the window. The parents wanted to burst inside and hug their son but stopped in their tracks when they overheard him talking.
Paul and Linda were embarrassed. They listened in tears and shock as Clark spoke about his heart’s worries, and Mr. Bowen advised him to reconcile with his parents. “They still adore you, little boy,” the older man said. “Look, kid. I lost my wife and child. Their plane crashed, and I’ve lived in this nightmare for years, missing them every single day and night. What’s happened in your family is any parent’s worst nightmare come true. How about we be kinder to them?”
Clark agreed, nodding at some point.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Instead of grieving the loss of what you don’t have, take the opportunity to appreciate what you do have.
Paul and Linda could no longer wait.
“I’m so sorry, honey!” Linda cried as she and Paul stormed into the cottage. She held her boy close as her tears flowed freely.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Paul looked at Mr. Bowen apologetically and thanked him for saving Clark. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much for what you did for our family just now.”
“No problem. I know the hell you’re going through. So, I understand. Hang in there.”
Eventually, Mr. Bowen became the Wesenbergs’ close friend. In months, idyll returned to this family’s household. They could heal from Ted’s loss and finally look at life positively.
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I Was Looking At a Photo of My Late Wife and Me When Something Fell Out of the Frame and Made Me Go Pale
The day I buried Emily, all I had left were our photos and memories. But when something slipped from behind our engagement picture that night, my hands started shaking. What I discovered made me question if I’d ever really known my wife at all.
The funeral home had tied a black ribbon on our front door. I stared at it, my key suspended in the lock, wondering who’d thought that was necessary.
A black ribbon attached to a doorknob | Source: Midjourney
As if the neighbors didn’t already know that I’d been at the cemetery all afternoon, watching them lower my wife into the ground while Rev. Matthews talked about angels and eternal rest.
My hands shook as I finally got the door open. The house smelled wrong — like leather polish and sympathy casseroles.
Emily’s sister Jane had “helped” by cleaning while I was at the hospital during those final days. Now everything gleamed with an artificial brightness that made my teeth hurt.
A home entrance hallway | Source: Pexels
“Home sweet home, right, Em?” I called out automatically, then caught myself. The silence that answered felt like a physical blow.
I loosened my tie, the blue one Emily had bought me last Christmas, and kicked off my dress shoes. They hit the wall with dull thuds.
Emily would have scolded me for that, pressing her lips together in the way she had, trying not to smile while she lectured me about scuff marks.
A heartbroken man looking down | Source: Midjourney
“Sorry, honey,” I muttered, but I left the shoes where they lay.
Our bedroom was worse than the rest of the house. Jane had changed the sheets — probably trying to be kind — but the fresh linen smell just emphasized that Emily’s scent was gone.
The bed was made with hospital corners, every wrinkle smoothed away, erasing the casual mess that had been our life together.
“This isn’t real,” I said to the empty room. “This can’t be real.”
A bedroom | Source: Pexels
But it was. The sympathy cards on the dresser proved it, as did the pills on the nightstand that hadn’t been enough to save her in the end.
It had all happened so suddenly. Em got sick last year, but she fought it. Chemotherapy took an immense toll on her, but I was there to support her every step of the way. The cancer eventually went into remission.
We thought we’d won. Then a check-up showed it was back, and it was everywhere.
A couple staring grimly at each other | Source: Midjourney
Em fought like a puma right up until the end, but… but it was a losing battle. I could see that now.
I fell onto her side of the bed, not bothering to change out of my funeral clothes. The mattress didn’t even hold her shape anymore. Had Jane flipped it? The thought made me irrationally angry.
“Fifteen years,” I whispered into Emily’s pillow. “Fifteen years, and this is how it ends? A ribbon on the door and casseroles in the fridge?”
A heartbroken man | Source: Midjourney
My eyes landed on our engagement photo, the silver frame catching the late afternoon light. Emily looked so alive in it, her yellow sundress bright against the summer sky, her laugh caught mid-burst as I spun her around.
I grabbed it, needing to be closer to that moment and the joy we both felt then.
“Remember that day, Em? You said the camera would capture our souls. Said that’s why you hated having your picture taken, because—”
My fingers caught on something behind the frame.
A man holding a photo | Source: Midjourney
There was a bump under the backing that shouldn’t have been there.
I traced it again, frowning. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I pried the backing loose. Something slipped out, floating to the carpet like a fallen leaf.
My heart stopped.
It was another photograph, old and slightly curved as if it had been handled often before being hidden away.
A stunned man | Source: Midjourney
In the photo, Emily (God, she looked so young) was sitting in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket.
Her face was different than I’d ever seen it: exhausted, and scared, but with a fierce love that took my breath away.
I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. Although we tried, Emily and I were never able to have kids, so whose baby was this?
A confused man | Source: Midjourney
With trembling fingers, I turned the photo over. Emily’s handwriting, but shakier than I knew it: “Mama will always love you.”
Below that was a phone number.
“What?” The word came out as a croak. “Emily, what is this?”
There was only one way to find out.
A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney
The phone felt heavy in my hand as I dialed, not caring that it was nearly midnight. Each ring echoed in my head like a church bell.
“Hello?” A woman answered, her voice warm but cautious.
“I’m sorry for calling so late.” My voice sounded strange to my ears. “My name is James. I… I just found a photograph of my wife Emily with a baby, and this number…”
The silence stretched so long I thought she’d hung up.
A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh,” she finally said, so softly I almost missed it. “Oh, James. I’ve been waiting for this call for years. It’s been ages since Emily got in touch.”
“Emily died.” The words tasted like ashes. “The funeral was today.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked with genuine grief. “I’m Sarah. I… I adopted Emily’s daughter, Lily.”
The room tilted sideways. I gripped the edge of the bed. “Daughter?”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“She was nineteen,” Sarah explained gently. “A freshman in college. She knew she couldn’t give the baby the life she deserved. It was the hardest decision she ever made.”
“We tried for years to have children,” I said, anger suddenly blazing through my grief. “Years of treatments, specialists, disappointments. She never said a word about having a baby before me. Never.”
“She was terrified,” Sarah said. “Terrified you’d judge her, terrified you’d leave. She loved you so much, James. Sometimes love makes us do impossible things.”
A man on a phone call | Source: Midjourney
I closed my eyes, remembering her tears during fertility treatments, and how she’d grip my hand too tight whenever we passed playgrounds.
I’d assumed it was because we were both so desperate to have a child, but now I wondered how much of that came from longing for the daughter she gave up.
“Tell me about her,” I heard myself say. “Tell me about Lily.”
A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney
Sarah’s voice brightened. “She’s twenty-five now. A kindergarten teacher, if you can believe it. She has Emily’s laugh, her way with people. She’s always known she was adopted, and she knows about Emily. Would… would you like to meet her?”
“Of course!” I replied.
The next morning, I sat in a corner booth at a café, too nervous to touch my coffee. The bell above the door chimed, and I looked up.
It was like being punched in the chest.
A man in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney
She had Emily’s eyes and her smile. She even tucked her hair behind her ear like Em would’ve as she scanned the room. When our gazes met, we both knew.
“James?” Her voice wavered.
I stood, nearly knocking over my chair. “Lily.”
She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it. I held her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo — lavender, just like Emily’s had been.
Two people hugging | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered against my shoulder. “When Mom called this morning… I’ve always wondered about you, about what kind of man my mother married.”
We spent hours talking. She showed me pictures on her phone of her college graduation, her first classroom, and her cat. I told her stories about Emily, our life together, and the woman her mother became.
“She used to send Mom birthday cards for me every year,” Lily revealed, wiping tears from her eyes.
A woman in a coffeeshop smiling sadly | Source: Midjourney
“We never spoke, but Mom told me she used to call now and then to ask how I was doing.”
Looking at this beautiful, brilliant young woman who had Emily’s kindness shining in her eyes, I began to understand Emily’s secret differently.
It wasn’t just shame or fear that had kept her quiet. She’d been protecting Lily by letting her have a safe, stable life with Sarah. It must have hurt Em deeply to keep this secret, but she’d done it out of love for her child.
A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney
“I wish I’d known sooner,” I said, reaching for Lily’s hand. “But I think I understand why she never told me. I’m so sorry you can’t get to know her, but I want you to know, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”
Lily squeezed my fingers. “Do you think… could we maybe do this again? Get to know each other better?”
“I’d like that,” I said, feeling something warm bloom in my chest for the first time since Emily’s death. “I’d like that very much.”
A man smiling in a coffeeshop | Source: Midjourney
That night, I placed the hidden photo next to our engagement picture on the nightstand.
Emily smiled at me from both frames — young and old, before and after, always with love in her eyes. I touched her face through the glass.
“You did good, Em,” I whispered. “You did real good. And I promise you, I’ll do right by her. By both of you.”
Here’s another story: When a proud father stumbles upon unexpected footage from his daughter’s bachelorette party, his excitement for her wedding turns into heartbreak. Feeling like their bond has been shattered, he refuses to walk her down the aisle.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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