It was a Sunday afternoon, and the Wesenberg family was supposed to be enjoying a peaceful day together. But what happened next was every parent’s worst nightmare. Their little son, Ted, was gone. The unthinkable had happened in the one place where they thought he would always be safe—their own backyard.
The Wesenbergs found Ted floating lifelessly in their swimming pool. Paul, Ted’s father, jumped into the water without a second thought, pulling his son out and desperately trying to save him. He performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, his hands trembling, his heart racing. But it was too late. The paramedics arrived, but nothing could bring Ted back.
At Ted’s funeral, Linda, Ted’s mother, sat like a statue, pale and numb. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her world had shattered. The days that followed were no better. The Wesenberg household, once filled with laughter and love, turned into a battlefield. Paul and Linda fought constantly, their grief turning into anger, their pain into blame.
Little Clark, their other son, was caught in the middle of it all. Every night, he hid under his blanket, clutching his teddy bear, crying as he listened to his parents scream at each other. His daddy blamed his mommy for Ted’s death, and his mommy blamed his daddy.
Clark missed the days when Ted was still there, when his parents were happy, and when his mommy would kiss him goodnight and tuck him into bed. Now, everything was different.
“No loss is so profound that love cannot heal it,” someone once said. But for Clark, it felt like love had disappeared from his home. His mommy stopped making breakfast, and his daddy tried to cook, but it wasn’t the same. Clark missed Ted so much that he wished he could be with him, wherever he was.
One evening, the fighting got worse. Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He stormed into his parents’ room, tears streaming down his face. “Mommy! Daddy! Please stop!” he yelled. “I don’t like it when you fight!”
But his parents didn’t stop. They were too caught up in their anger. “Look, Paul!” Linda 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 felt like his heart was breaking. “I hate you both…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “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!”
With that, Clark ran out of the house. He stopped in the garden to pick the dahlias he and Ted had grown together. Then he ran to the cemetery, where Ted was buried. It was only a few blocks away, but to Clark, it felt like a different world.
When he reached Ted’s grave, Clark fell to his knees. “I… I m—miss you, Ted,” he sobbed. “Could you please ask the angels to return you?” He pressed his fingertips against the cold gravestone, tracing the words: “In the beloved memory of Ted Wesenberg.”
Clark poured his heart out to his brother. He told him about the burnt breakfasts, the fights, the loneliness. “Mommy and daddy don’t care about me anymore,” he cried. “They only care about who’s to blame for your death. I wish you were here, Ted. I wish you could come back.”
Hours passed, and the sky grew dark. The cemetery was empty, but Clark didn’t want to leave. For the first time since Ted’s death, he felt at peace. But then, he heard a rustling sound behind him. His heart raced as he turned around. Who could be here at this hour?
Suddenly, several men in black robes appeared, their faces hidden under hoods. They held torches, and their voices were low and menacing. “See who has arrived in our dark kingdom!” one of them shouted. “You shouldn’t have risked coming here, boy!”
Clark was terrified. “Who… who are you?” he stammered. “Please let me go!”
But before the men could say anything else, a booming voice interrupted them. “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 turned to see a tall, well-dressed man in his 50s walking toward them. “Don’t worry, boy,” the man said, his voice calm and reassuring. “These boys won’t do anything. They’re worse than kids!”
The man, who introduced himself as Mr. Bowen, shooed the robed figures away. “How about you stop burning your lousy report cards here and start studying instead?” he scolded them. Then he turned to Clark. “Come here, kid. Let’s get you home.”
Mr. Bowen took Clark to his small cabin nearby and gave him a cup of hot chocolate. As Clark sipped the warm drink, he opened up to Mr. Bowen about his parents, his brother, and how much his life had changed since Ted’s death.
“They don’t care about me anymore,” Clark said, his voice breaking. “All they do is fight. I don’t want to go home.”
Mr. Bowen listened patiently. “They still love you, Clark,” he said gently. “They’re just lost in their grief. I lost my wife and child too, so I understand how hard it is. But instead of focusing on what you’ve lost, try to appreciate what you still have.”
Meanwhile, back at the Wesenberg house, Linda was panicking. She had just realized that Clark was missing. She called Paul, but he didn’t answer. It had been over two hours since he left after their fight.
“Oh no, where’s Clark?” Linda cried, her heart pounding. She searched the house, the backyard, everywhere, but Clark was gone. Then she remembered him saying he wanted to meet Ted. “The cemetery!” she gasped.
Linda grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. As she turned onto the first street, she saw Paul’s car. He rolled down the window. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Clark’s missing!” Linda cried. “He’s at the cemetery! Drive, Paul!”
The two raced to the cemetery, their hearts filled with fear. When they arrived, they saw a group of teens in black robes gathered around a fire. Paul approached them, his voice tense. “Have you seen this boy?” he asked, showing them a photo of Clark.
One of the teens smirked. “Your son arrived at the wrong place at the wrong time!” he said. “But don’t worry, Mr. Bowen took him.”
Paul and Linda hurried to Mr. Bowen’s cabin. Through the window, they saw Clark sitting on the sofa, talking to the older man. They listened in silence as Clark poured out his heart, and Mr. Bowen offered words of comfort.
“They still love you, Clark,” Mr. Bowen said. “They’re just hurting right now. Give them time.”
Paul and Linda couldn’t hold back any longer. They burst into the cabin, tears streaming down their faces. “I’m so sorry, honey!” Linda cried, pulling Clark into a tight hug. “We love you so much. We’re so sorry for everything.”
Paul looked at Mr. Bowen, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for saving our son.”
Mr. Bowen smiled. “No problem. I know what you’re going through. Hang in there.”
In the months that followed, the Wesenberg family began to heal. They still missed Ted terribly, but they learned to lean on each other for support. Mr. Bowen became a close friend, and slowly, the idyll returned to their home.
The story of the Wesenbergs is a reminder that even in the darkest times, love and kindness can help us find our way back to the light. What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts below!
