Now that he still hasn’t returned, I understand why he brought only one bullet. My son had gone off on his own, eager to prove to himself that he could hunt and provide for his family. He was so excited that morning, though I knew he was anxious as well. I wanted to go with him and keep him safe, but he insisted that he could do it alone.
I waited all day for him to come back, my heart aching with worry. I tried to keep busy, but my mind kept wandering to the worst-case scenarios. What if he got lost? What if he was injured? What if he had been attacked by a wild animal?
The hours passed, and it grew dark. I lit a candle and prayed for his safe return, but my prayers went unanswered. I knew in my heart that something had gone wrong.
The next morning, I went out to search for him. I found his rifle and one spent bullet, and my heart sank. I knew then that he was gone.
My son had gone off on his own, eager to prove himself, and now he was gone forever. I had failed to protect him, and now he was gone. I will never forget the pain of that day, and the guilt that I carry for not being there for him.