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Splinter didn’t want to let go. He kept his paw wrapped around his son’s hand, until Raphael said:
”Splinter, stop.”
He wasn’t called Master Splinter anymore. Just Splinter.
Before Splinter knew it, Raphael had slipped away.
I miss his voice.
I miss everything about him.
Even that sly smirk he does when he makes a sarcastic comment.
Splinter wished that he had tried harder to hold on when he had seen Raphael sad that night. Even though he knew his son wasn’t much of a hugger. And that he had wriggled free from his grasp.
He didn’t like how quiet Raphael had been. As a typical teenage boy, Raphael was never one to talk about his feelings, not even with the other Turtles. He had an angry side, and a playful side. But anything else, such as sadness or worry, was masked under a veil of humor.
Raphael had left without announcement.
The night before, he had stayed up late training with Splinter.
Finally, Raphael is spending time with me.
Still, Raphael didn’t speak about whatever was clearly troubling him.
Splinter could see that his son was getting exhausted and ended the session.
“Sleep well, my son,” he said, “I will see you in the morning.”
Raphael, of course, said nothing.
Splinter didn’t want to let go, but he did. He had to focus on his duties as as sensei and father figure to the others.
In his heart, he was still holding on to Raphael.
It’s hard to believe that he is already grown up. It seems as though just yesterday, he was a baby turtle who had quite literally fallen into my life.
Now, the family he had raised for over eighteen years was breaking apart.
I shouldn’t have let him go.
Well, perhaps he will come back.