Bring Him Home

             “…bring him peace, bring him joy… he is young… he is only a boy…” those words by Jean Valjean seemed to affect me so much ever since I finished watching that Broadway Musical in London. After the show, I rushed into the back stage congratulating my son for making me proud.

             I’m Michael Wilkinson, and it’s been twenty years since I came back from New York. I went away to escape the things I was afraid to take responsibility on in London. It was just the hardest days in my life that I couldn’t get a hold of myself. I wasn’t the best person I knew. I’d always run away from my problems and would expect them to resolve themselves. I wasn’t very proud of the way I acted.

            Twenty years ago, I had a big fight with my wife. It’s a typical fight of most couples that they would start to doubt their marriage; but we keep having “The Talk” for almost every day. I couldn’t take this kind of chaos. So I moved out. I started living a few miles away from my family in London; leaving my six-year-old son and wife alone. Three months later, I got a job in New York as an accountant. Without any formal goodbye, I went there to take the job, only leaving a short letter to my family informing them that I’ll work abroad; it’s like disappearing in the thin air like air itself. I can only imagine their pain when I left without their sweet goodbye; never knowing when or how to come back.

            It came a time that the company I work in had to go back to London. I didn’t go back to the family I left; but stayed in an apartment that I will soon call home. We were given a month break to rest before we go back working again. So I toured myself in downtown London as I see the sign of the Broadway Musical, Les Miserables. I looked immediately at the cast of the musical. Hoping that my son’s name is there; because I remember how he would dream like he’s John Owen Jones. I found no William Wilkinson in the cast on our local Broadway Theatre. I saw a little note beside the cast that there will be another performance in the Royal Albert Hall. I was so excited that I rushed myself, anxious to see the London Broadway cast, but by the time I got there, they wouldn’t tell who acted whom. So I just decided to buy the nearest seat to stage.

            “I’m old; he wouldn’t recognize me even a tiny bit. It’s been twenty years.” a thought while I prepare myself to go to the hall. I arrived there an hour before the show start. Sitting there, just waiting, and just hoping that I will see my son after years of running away.

                                                                                    It finally started…

            It gave me a weird feeling when I heard the voice of Valjean as he sings “Bring Him Home.” I just felt warm water drops in my face; seemingly like the morning dew falling from the leaves of trees. It was the strangest feeling I had in years.

                        “God on high, hear my prayer. In my need, you have always been there..”

More tears…                                                               “…bring him home…”

                                                                        I stand for an ovation, an ovation for my son…

I finished watching that Broadway Musical in London. After the show, I rushed into the back stage congratulating my son for making me proud. I went there standing in front of him staring at him as he celebrate his dream come true. I didn’t come any closer… I just left a note saying that I’ve always been proud of him and left the hall, disappearing once again from his life…

                                                …running away from pain once more…