A RUN UNDER THE MOON LIGHT

Tim stands on the beach wondering what it was that had brought him to this location. Just eight hours before, he was working a dead-end job working his life away to nothing. Just working like a drone on autopilot and never getting anywhere but the cubicle shoved in the back of the office. Just far enough away from everyone in the room. Barely making payments for bills and rent. and eating discount Raman noodles just to have something in his stomach.

At 35 he thought his life would have been remarkably different from his current one. He imagined after college, he would have his own business. That would have been great, and he would have been some kind of CEO by now.

When he clocked into work he felt off and felt as though something huge was going to happen today. He was anxious and his nerves were a wreck for no reason at all. He just kept getting this feeling as though he should just go home and go to the beach and run like he does nightly when he gets home from work.

By lunch time, the feeling kept getting stronger. he felt as though he was experiencing an anxiety attack. he decided to leave work early and maybe see a doctor tomorrow.

When Tim arrived home, he noticed a package was sitting in front of his door. Which was odd considering he had not ordered anything. He walked up to the box and looked at the sender and seen it was from his father. His stomach was doing flips, because his father told him last time, they seen each other that, he was dead to him and to never speak to him again.

Tim had not been able to save his twin brother Tom in time. He had been in college working a full-time job and hardly had time for a private thought. His brother had gotten into the local college so stayed behind. He was struck by a drunk driver on his way home from school. Tim had left his phone at home and had not received the call. When he finally had a min to himself it had been a week already. When he found the time, he listened to a voicemail then drove home.

****

When he reached the hospital and found his brothers room, he realized it was too late. As he walked in his father met him before he arrived at his brother’s bed.

“How dare you show up now, it’s too late!”, His father's face was a mask of utter fury and hate. Tim was caught off guard by this sudden emotion. His father was always kind and loving.

“What do you mean by too late?” he asked his voice sounding small. Looking between his father and his brothers still bed. Then as clarity hit, he noticed there were no machines beeping or humming. It was too quiet.

“He is dead! We called you 50 or more times, he needed your blood, but you were too good to check your messages or voicemails to know that”, his father screamed

Time felt as though his world just crashed around him.

“What do you mean he is dead? You guys said he was stable. I rushed here the first chance I got when I had time to check anything.” He was looking at his father “Between working my full-time job and going to college full-time I haven’t checked my messages in over a week. I literally had no time to respond to anything or even clear my head. The only thing I am guilty for is not giving myself enough time to myself. And here you are telling me that I am selfish for not giving myself time to be available for anyone. If this is how you truly feel about me then you are not a father at all.” He inhaled a deep breath “A real father would not have put that much expectation on his other children knowing how busy and bone tired he is,” Tim was red faced the whole time and his veins popped from his neck with each word he spoke. His father took a few steps back like he had been slapped.

“Leave and never come back here! You are no son of mine. you are dead to me. You should have been the one that died, not Tom.” His father spat

When his father finished speaking Tim felt numb. His father just wished him dead. So, without another word Tim walked out. He got back in his car and drove back to his dorm room.

Tim didn’t know how long he sat in his car, until his phone started ringing. When he picked it up, he sees it was his father. In a fit of rage, he declined the call and blocked him. He went through his phone and blocked and deleted everyone from his family. he was sure his family would react the same way his father did. better cut the whole family out before the drama hit him. When he got to his mother's number he paused. She wasn’t in the room when he arrived, so he figured she was somewhere close.

He was not sure if his mother felt the same way or not but to keep himself from feeling worse, he blocked her as well and deleted her contact. He did the same for all the social medias that he had. He even went as far as deleting a few accounts.

The next day he went to the office and told them to remove his parents from the contact list and bar them from any information pertaining to him at all. Tim finished his last year of college on auto pilot. Turning down dates and chances to make friends. He shut down any feelings and gave no room for himself to think about anything. Once he graduated, he moved far from his home state. Never to return.

***

The memory making his chest ache, so he rubbed his palm against it. He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the contents in the box. The rage of all the emotions he kept buried crept up like a dam cracking under pressure. He bends down ready to examine the contents.

Tim opens the box. His father sent his brothers ashes and their picture. under the photo, Tim noticed a folded piece of paper, yellowed at the edges. His breath caught when he saw the handwriting on the front — his father’s. In careful, shaking letters it read: For My Son, Tim.

His hands trembled as he unfolded the page.

“My Son,

If you’re reading this, then I’m no longer around to say the words I should have said years ago. I’ve carried anger in my heart for far too long. At the time, I told myself it was grief, but it was guilt — guilt for losing Tom, and guilt for turning my back on you.

You didn’t deserve the things I said. You didn’t deserve the weight I threw on your shoulders. When your brother died, I needed someone to blame. I told myself you failed us, but the truth is, I failed you both.

I should have been there for you instead of pushing you away. Every day since, I’ve lived with the sound of my own voice wishing you dead. I can still hear it, and it haunts me. I was wrong, Tim. So very wrong.

I’m sending you Tom’s ashes because he would have wanted to be with you. You two were always inseparable — halves of the same whole. I broke that when I let my pain turn into hate. Please forgive me, even if I don’t deserve it. Don’t let my mistakes define the rest of your life.

Run, son. Run like you always did under the moonlight. Run free, and know that somewhere, somehow, I’ll be proud of you again.

— Dad”

Tim stared at the page until the words blurred behind his tears. For years he had built walls around his heart, but now they crumbled all at once. The sound of the waves filled the silence around him. He walked down to the shoreline, the urn in his hands. The moon hung high and bright, its light spilling over the water like silver.

He opened the urn and let the ashes drift into the night breeze.

“Goodbye, Tom,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Then, softer still, “Goodbye, Dad.”

The wind carried the ashes toward the horizon, fading into the glow of the moonlight. Tim stood there for a long time, feeling the tide wash against his feet, the cold turning into something almost warm. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel hollow. He took a deep breath, lifted his head toward the stars, and began to run — his feet kicking up sand, his heart lighter with every step — running under the moon, not to escape the past, but to finally meet the future.