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He comes to his father holding his pet, “Something’s wrong with Beano, he needs a vet!” The Father looks down and seeing the frog, Struggles with words to explain to the sprog. So he takes a deep breath and starts to explain, That “Beano will not be in any pain”. “The vet cannot help him, he’s already gone.” “It’s not your fault son. You did nothing wrong.” He could see tears well in the eyes of the lad. To see his son hurting makes him too feel sad. How do you comfort a child who’s lost hope? He lifts the boy up and holds him close. Tells him that “everything will be OK. That we’ll get a new Beano for you to play.” But tears down his cheeks continue to stream, “You don’t really care!!” he mightily screams. He struggles free and runs straight to his room, Slamming the door with a deafening boom. From outside the door he hears him crying And ponders his own first thoughts of dying. When he was young, his dog hit by a car, The hurt that it caused and it’s lasting scar. The boy emerges through door, box in hand, Wrapped in paper, lid held on with a band, “I’m gonna bury him under the tree,” He says. “Papa would you please help me?” So into the garden they walk hand in hand Father and son, to funeral, un-planned. The boy picks up shovel and starts to dig, Looks up at his Papa; “it has to be big”. The hole now finished and the box set in place, He rubs dirty hand across still wet face. And turns to the task of replacing the dirt, Gently placing handfuls of soil in the culvert. Father watches in awe, with growing pride, As innocence and reverence in his son collide. The grave freshly covered, the boy runs back indoors, Comes out with twelve toy frogs and claims; “Mourners”. He places the cross Dad had been working on At the head of the grave and pushes it down. The toy frogs in procession are carefully laid. Now father and son on bended knees pray; “Look after Beano, a good frog he’s been” The boy joins in “he was my bestest friend”. They sit there in silence, a boy and his dad, Each with his thoughts of this event so sad. A boy thinking about the loss of a friend, A man hoping this moment together won’t end. The child asks father “Why did Beano have to die? It just isn’t fair”. Dad answers “There’s a fly problem in heaven and God needed him there.” Boy replies “that’s not true” but cant hide his grin “It might be” Dad winks ”but now it’s time we went in”. Now later in evening, man, with boy sat by his side, Whispers to him “I’m proud of you son, you’ve had a rough ride.” The boy looks up and smiles then gives him a squeeze “for being so good, can I get a new frog? Please….?”

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Walter V: a Father's Pride

He comes to his father holding his pet, “Something’s wrong with Beano, he needs a vet!” The Father looks down and seeing the frog, Struggles with words to explain to the sprog. So he takes a deep breath and starts to explain, That “Beano will not be in any pain”. “The vet cannot help him, he’s already gone.” “It’s not your fault son. You did nothing wrong.” He could see tears well in the eyes of the lad. To see his son hurting makes him too feel sad. How do you comfort a child who’s lost hope? He lifts the boy up and holds him close. Tells him that “everything will be OK. That we’ll get a new Beano for you to play.” But tears down his cheeks continue to stream, “You don’t really care!!” he mightily screams. He struggles free and runs straight to his room, Slamming the door with a deafening boom. From outside the door he hears him crying And ponders his own first thoughts of dying. When he was young, his dog hit by a car, The hurt that it caused and it’s lasting scar. The boy emerges through door, box in hand, Wrapped in paper, lid held on with a band, “I’m gonna bury him under the tree,” He says. “Papa would you please help me?” So into the garden they walk hand in hand Father and son, to funeral, un-planned. The boy picks up shovel and starts to dig, Looks up at his Papa; “it has to be big”. The hole now finished and the box set in place, He rubs dirty hand across still wet face. And turns to the task of replacing the dirt, Gently placing handfuls of soil in the culvert. Father watches in awe, with growing pride, As innocence and reverence in his son collide. The grave freshly covered, the boy runs back indoors, Comes out with twelve toy frogs and claims; “Mourners”. He places the cross Dad had been working on At the head of the grave and pushes it down. The toy frogs in procession are carefully laid. Now father and son on bended knees pray; “Look after Beano, a good frog he’s been” The boy joins in “he was my bestest friend”. They sit there in silence, a boy and his dad, Each with his thoughts of this event so sad. A boy thinking about the loss of a friend, A man hoping this moment together won’t end. The child asks father “Why did Beano have to die? It just isn’t fair”. Dad answers “There’s a fly problem in heaven and God needed him there.” Boy replies “that’s not true” but cant hide his grin “It might be” Dad winks ”but now it’s time we went in”. Now later in evening, man, with boy sat by his side, Whispers to him “I’m proud of you son, you’ve had a rough ride.” The boy looks up and smiles then gives him a squeeze “for being so good, can I get a new frog? Please….?”