Work Text:
The leader of the band
The life of Walter Wood, or Wirt, as everyone knew him, took a turn when he was just seven years old.
Wirt had always been close to his father, Patrick, who was the lead singer and creative force behind the band Isle of Dogs , which played a style of rock reminiscent of the soft rock of the 1970s and early 1980s. Patrick had formed the band when he was 19 with four of his college friends: drummer Quincy Endicott, guitarist Stuart Reilly, keyboardist Mason Curtis, and co-vocalist Amy Gillis. The band's career hadn't been particularly spectacular, but they were very popular locally, and no matter where they played, thousands of people attended their shows.
One day, after a concert, the band went to dinner at a popular restaurant in Aberdale, Massachusetts, called Caribou Kitchen . They were served by a young waitress named Whitney Green, who worked there to support herself while studying at university. When Patrick looked into Whitney's eyes, he was immediately smitten. After dinner, he complimented her and gave her his phone number, which made the young waitress blush. She couldn't believe a "celebrity" was interested in her, but she accepted without hesitation. One day, Whitney called Patrick, they chatted for a while, and agreed to arrange their first date. One Friday, after leaving university, Patrick drove to Whitney's house and picked her up to go to the movies together to see a romantic comedy called Eternal Flame . At the theater, the couple held hands for the first time and smiled at each other, realizing they were indeed in love. Afterward, they went to dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, enjoying a delicious meal. Then, the two drove back to Whitney's house, where, after saying goodbye, they shared their sweet first kiss. They both felt incredibly lucky to feel love for each other.
Time passed, and Patrick and Whitney continued their romance. Soon, they would both finish their studies, and in a gesture of mutual trust, Patrick asked his girlfriend to move in with him, which she gladly accepted. As a couple living together, Patrick continued to showcase his creativity with his band, and their success grew more and more. One night, Patrick and Whitney decided to make love for the first time and enjoyed it like never before, ending up exhausted and relaxed in each other's arms, with their hearts overflowing with love. While Patrick continued to find success with the band, Whitney struggled to find a new job after finishing her studies. A friend who still worked at Caribou Kitchen suggested she return to the restaurant, as the owners loved her personality and customer service. So Whitney spoke with her boss and returned, now with a better position, also working as a cook thanks to her talent.
Two years after meeting and starting their relationship, Patrick decided to propose to Whitney, which he did one day at Caribou Kitchen , causing absolute jubilation among the entire restaurant staff. That summer, they finally married in a modest ceremony where Isle of Dogs provided the entertainment. Less than a year after their wedding, Whitney discovered she was pregnant, and her husband was overjoyed, knowing he would now have another person to love. As the months passed, ultrasounds revealed the baby would be a boy, a fact they both loved. One frantic night, Whitney woke her husband when she started feeling contractions, and he rushed her to the hospital. Once there, after several hours of labor, the doctor told Whitney that a natural birth would be difficult and that a cesarean section would be the best option. The woman agreed to the procedure to ensure her and her child's safety, and a short while later the couple was in the operating room, where the doctor delivered a beautiful baby boy with brown hair like Patrick's and green eyes like Whitney's. When the baby cried for the first time, the new parents' hearts melted with tenderness, and their veins filled with a love that was difficult to explain to anyone who had never experienced it. Back in the hospital room, after examining the little baby, they placed him in Whitney's arms, where the child followed his instinct and latched onto his mother's nipple to nurse for the first time.
- "Our baby boy is beautiful, Patrick. What are we going to name him?" Whitney asked.
- "I had thought of Walter. It was the name of my grandfather, whom I always loved," Patrick replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
- "Yes, it's a very nice name now that you mention it. So, welcome to the world, my little Walter," Whitney said, stroking her baby's soft hair as he continued to nurse.
The years passed, and Walter grew up to be a very happy child. When he began to speak and say his name, he would often get confused and say "Wirt" instead of " Walt ." So his parents started calling him that to prevent him from stumbling, and over time, the name stuck, which never bothered the boy. Patrick loved teaching Wirt how to compose and play music, noticing that his son's favorite instrument was the clarinet, and he loved listening to Chopin. The other members of Isle of Dogs adored Wirt and also showed him how to play instruments and sing the band's songs. Wirt's favorite activity was watching his father use his tape recorder to record demos and vocals, and on more than one occasion, Patrick would let him speak in the background to preserve the memory of his son as a child, knowing that he would grow up and things would never be the same.
That October day arrived, a Saturday to be precise. A few weeks earlier, Wirt had turned seven, and his father had promised him that on Halloween, they would go on a trip to a place in the mountains they both loved, where the band would also put on a small Halloween-themed show. The boy was eager for that day to arrive. That Saturday, Isle of Dogs played a concert at the Aberdale sports park before more than 5,000 people. The song that closed the concert was a cover of John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy ," which Patrick dedicated to Wirt. The boy had stayed home with his mother and played for a while with one of his neighbors, a 10-year-old boy named Andy Davis.
After the concert, the band got into their van and headed to a fancy restaurant in downtown Boston. The van stopped at a red light, and as it turned green and the van began to move, it was struck by a speeding semi-truck that slammed into it without hesitation. The truck driver was intoxicated, and the impact trapped him in the wreckage of the cab, killing him almost instantly. The impact on the van also caused Patrick and Quincy to be killed in the back seat, while Mason suffered a broken leg, Amy and Stuart sustained spinal injuries, and the driver was the only one with minor injuries. An ambulance arrived and examined the victims, confirming the deaths of Patrick and Quincy amidst the horror and anguish of the others. The driver gave the paramedics Whitney's phone number, and they called her. The woman answered the phone normally, but when she was told what had happened to her husband, she screamed in terror and nearly fainted, bursting into tears. Soon, paramedics arrived at the house, the street illuminated by the red and white siren of the ambulance.
Wirt found it strange to see an ambulance outside his house, and curiously went downstairs. He saw his mother crying uncontrollably and, worried, asked her what was wrong.
- "What's wrong, Mom?" the boy asked.
- "Wirt... you have to be very strong," his mother replied between sobs. "My child, your father... your father... is gone, he died in an accident... his van crashed and he died... we will never see him again... I am so sorry, Wirt..." The woman could no longer say anything more through her anguished tears for having lost the love of her life.
At that moment, something broke inside Wirt's heart, and it would never be repaired. There would be no Halloween outing. He wouldn't see his dad recording cassettes anymore. He wouldn't be at the dinner table anymore. He wouldn't eat the delicious hamburgers he cooked anymore. It was as if everything around him had collapsed in an earthquake, and he didn't know what to do. Tears quickly welled in his eyes, falling onto the wooden floor of the house. Slowly, he went back upstairs and closed his bedroom door behind him. He lay down on his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried like he probably hadn't done since he was a baby. His dad was dead.
The mourning lasted for months in the house. Both Whitney and Wirt attended the funeral, though neither had the courage to look at Patrick's lifeless face one last time. They both left flowers on his grave and promised to visit him often. Wirt's personality became shy and withdrawn, and he barely spoke to his neighbors or schoolmates. Eventually, Wirt's school recommended that his mother take him to therapy, and with that help, the boy was able to cope with the loss, although it was clear he would always miss his father. And although Whitney later met Jonathan, who would become her new romantic partner, Wirt struggled to accept this, as he didn't want anyone to replace his father. Both Jonathan and Whitney spoke with the boy and made it clear that his father and the memories he had of him were irreplaceable and that they had no intention of doing so; they simply wanted to move on with their lives, as that was what Patrick would have wanted. Thus, despite his initial reluctance, Wirt eventually accepted his mother's new relationship, and although he tried to keep his distance from Jonathan, his perspective changed, and he focused more on continuing to practice the musical talent that his father had bequeathed to him.
Some time later, Jonathan and Whitney married and soon learned they were expecting a baby together. Wirt didn't like to admit it, but he was happy to have a little brother because he sometimes felt lonely and rarely interacted with other children. The day his little brother, Greg, was born and Wirt saw him for the first time, the older boy was overcome with joy and promised to always protect him from any danger. After Greg was born, a new girl named Sara joined Wirt's class. She quickly became his best friend and confidante, and as the years passed and Wirt grew older, she became his romantic interest, though he didn't know how to confess his feelings. That is, until the adventure he and his brother had in the Unknown, where they nearly drowned. After that, Wirt mustered his courage, and he and Sara finally became a couple.
The memory of his father was always present in Wirt's mind, from the lyrics of Isle of Dogs songs filled with poetic metaphors that he sometimes didn't fully understand, but which inspired him to write his own poetry and songs. One Friday night in October, close to the anniversary of his father's death, Wirt went to a party at Sara's house. Although he appeared happy in front of his friends, inside he was consumed by sadness at the thought of his father, and by the idea that with time he might begin to forget the memories he had shared with him. This didn't go unnoticed by Sara, who asked her boyfriend if he was alright.
- "Are you alright, Wirt? You seem a bit off, like you're hiding something," Sara said.
- "I'm fine, baby, it's just that, you know, it was around this time that my dad died and I'm thinking about him a lot," Wirt replied, with some anxiety in his voice.
The couple sat on the bench on Sara's porch. The girl was carrying a thermos of hot chocolate and offered her boyfriend a sip, which he accepted. After that, the boy began to speak.
- "It's very strange. Sometimes I'm fine for months, and then something small makes me remember him."
- "That's because your dad was, and still is in your heart, very important to you, Wirt. I remember feeling very sad myself when Elaine Emmons, a girl from elementary school, died. She had leukemia and unfortunately didn't survive it. Do you remember her?"
- "I do remember her, poor girl who didn't deserve that. Sometimes it seems like life is unfair, like They Might Be Giants once said," Wirt replied, somewhat annoyed.
- "I suppose not everything in life can be fair, and that's something mere mortal humans like us can't figure out," Sara replied, remembering what her grandmother sometimes told her about it.
- "You know, Sara, a little while ago one of your friends played a song that my dad loved, and I think that's why I started feeling like this. It was The Boys of Summer , and when I heard it, I don't know, it's like I was seven years old again and I was at my birthday party with him," Wirt replied nostalgically.
Sara lowered her gaze and listened attentively to her boyfriend.
- "You still miss him a lot, don't you?"
Wirt barely smiled, but it was a sad smile.
- "All the time."
There was a brief silence.
- "The worst part is... I remember fewer and fewer things every year. And that scares me a lot."
Sara looked at him.
- "Like what, darling?"
Wirt rested his arms on his legs.
- "His voice... the look in his eyes, those little details. I used to be able to remember exactly what he sounded like when he told me bedtime stories, and now... I'm not so sure anymore."
His throat tightened slightly.
- "And that makes me feel terrible because... what kind of son forgets those things?"
Sara immediately shook her head.
- "You're not forgetting him."
- "Sometimes I feel that way," Wirt replied with a weak laugh.
Sara put her thermos aside and gently took one of her boyfriend's hands.
- "Wirt, you were only 7 years old. You can't force yourself to remember every detail to prove you loved him."
The boy looked down at his hands.
- "It's just that... I'm afraid that one day everything will become blurry, that I won't remember anything about him anymore."
Sara remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.
- "Then tell me about him."
Wirt raised his gaze slightly.
- "Tell me everything you still remember," Sara said again.
For the first time that night, Wirt's expression changed slightly. His sadness didn't disappear, but something warmer appeared.
- "Well..." she said slowly, "he was very bad at whistling."
- "Really?" Sara said, letting out a small laugh.
- "Yes, he was terrible at it. But I still did it all the time, especially when I was cooking. And sometimes I listened to really old jazz records, really strange music. I said that someday I would understand it."
- "And did you understand it?" Sara asked him.
- "I think so," replied Wirt, somewhat thoughtfully. "After all, music was his life, his greatest passion."
They continued talking on the bench about everything Wirt remembered about his father: the corny poems he'd written for his mother when they first started dating, their autumn walks, their winter trip to Boston where they watched other people ski, his Halloween costumes, and all the stories he'd told him as a child. Sara listened, rarely interrupting. And although the sadness was still there, for the first time in a long time, Wirt felt that remembering his father didn't have to be painful. Raindrops began to fall, and Sara suggested to her boyfriend that they continue their conversation in her room. So, the couple went inside and upstairs.
- "Oh, looks like the lovebirds want to be alone in their room. Don't forget your raincoats, guys!" Kathleen said, laughing and evidently referring to condoms.
- "Oh, thanks Kathleen, but we're not going to have sex," Sara replied in a serious tone, after which she and Wirt went into their room and closed the door.
Raindrops gently tapped against Sara's bedroom windows as the warm glow of a lamp kept the room dim. Outside, everything was gray and quiet, a stark contrast to the party happening downstairs. Wirt sat on his girlfriend's bed and pulled out his phone to show her pictures of some of his father's belongings, which were in a box inside his closet. They included music tapes, old tickets to the band's shows, an ashtray, and a neatly folded jacket. Sara looked at the pictures in silence, giving her boyfriend space. Wirt then selected another old, somewhat faded photo. It showed him as a child on his father's shoulders on Halloween. They were both wearing colorful, absurd costumes, and Patrick was smiling calmly and carefree.
- "I didn't remember this photo," Wirt murmured after swallowing.
- "You looked very happy," Sara replied, looking at the picture.
- "Yes, I suppose so," said Wirt, letting out a small, shaky laugh, but his voice cracked on that last word.
For a few seconds he tried to remain calm. He looked at the image again and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to contain something that had been building up for a long time.
- "Sometimes I feel like he should still be here," he said softly, "like... it didn't make sense for him to have left like that, to have ceased to exist."
Sara didn't respond right away, but she noticed Wirt clenching his hands, as if he felt very angry.
- "Years have passed and there are still moments when I want to tell him something and then I remember that I can't anymore."
His breathing began to become unsteady.
- "And I hate that... I hate that the world just keeps moving on as if nothing has happened. I remember a movie where someone was asking why we couldn't just gather all the people in the world we truly love and live together forever, before realizing that there's always someone who has to leave and we have to say goodbye."
Sara moved a little closer.
- "Wirt..."
The boy shook his head, trying to compose himself.
- "The worst part is that I no longer remember what his voice sounded like apart from when he sang with his band."
And that sentence was the final straw. Wirt gasped and partially covered his eyes with one hand, ashamed of starting to cry. He tried to apologize immediately.
- "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to..."
But Sara didn't let him finish, and without saying anything else, she hugged him with all her might.
Wirt remained rigid for a moment, as if still trying to hold back, but then all the tension he had accumulated over the years finally gave way, and he clung to Sara as he truly wept. It wasn't a loud cry, but an exhausted and deeply suppressed one, as if he had spent too much time trying to be strong in silence. The girl gently stroked his hair as he buried his face in her shoulder.
- "It's okay..." she whispered to him, "it's okay to miss him, you loved him very much."
Wirt was breathing heavily through his tears.
- "I don't want to forget him, Sara."
- "You're not forgetting, Wirt."
- "But the more time passes, the less I remember."
- "Remembering fewer details doesn't mean loving him less," Sara replied, still hugging him.
Wirt closed his eyes, and for several minutes there was nothing but the soft sound of the rain and his trembling breath. Sara continued to slowly stroke his back, letting him cry all the tears he had never allowed himself to shed in front of anyone. And for the first time in a long time, Wirt stopped carrying that pain completely alone. Soon after, the rain stopped, but the sky remained covered with dark clouds. Sara's room was quiet, though in the background he could hear the cheerful music that still enlivened the party downstairs. Wirt sat by the window, holding his partner, his eyes still red, his gaze lost in the raindrops sliding down the glass. After crying, he felt exhausted, but also a little ashamed.
- "I must look pretty pathetic right now," he muttered with a small, sad laugh.
Sara frowned slightly.
- "Wirt..."
The boy avoided looking at her, and commented.
- "I'm just saying... it's probably not very nice to see me having an emotional breakdown and crying like a little kid."
Sara sat next to him and held his hand.
- "You know what I see, Wirt? I see someone who loved his dad very much."
Silence returned for a moment, and Wirt swallowed.
- "Sometimes I feel like I should have gotten over it years ago."
- "I don't think you ever truly get over something like this. Elaine's death still makes me sad, and I don't know how I would feel if someone very close to me, like my parents or my grandmother, or you, died," Sara replied, with a hint of sadness.
Wirt looked down again, and Sara continued speaking calmly.
- "Losing someone so important when you were just a child changes a lot of things. And you've carried that burden alone for far too long."
- "I didn't want to be a burden to anyone," Wirt replied, letting out a tired breath.
Sara shook her head gently.
- "Listen to me carefully, Wirt."
She waited until he finally looked at her.
- "You're not a burden to absolutely anyone in the world. Not when you're sad, not when you overthink things, not when you feel like the whole world is crashing down on you. I love you regardless of your flaws or your quirks, and I want to be here with you, I really do, my love," Sara said, her voice growing even softer, though still tinged with a certain sadness born of her concern for him and his state of mind.
Wirt felt a lump forming in his throat again. Sara barely smiled.
- "That sounds like something Greg would say, you know?" the boy said, with a small, weak laugh.
Sara laughed a little too.
- "Well, maybe your little brother is sometimes right."
For the first time in a while, Wirt genuinely smiled, even if only slightly, and Sara gently rested her head against his shoulder.
- "Your dad will always be important to you. And it's okay that you still miss him."
Wirt closed his eyes for a moment.
- "Sara, thank you for staying with me."
Sara intertwined her fingers with her boyfriend's.
- "It's my pleasure, I'm always here for you. Like I told you, when you're by my side you make me feel better."
Following this, the couple shared a sweet kiss on the lips. And although the sadness remained, it no longer felt as heavy as before. Soon, Wirt said goodbye to his girlfriend and returned home, where he played with Greg for a while before going to his room, somewhat exhausted, and falling asleep amidst sweet memories of all the people he loved, even if they were no longer present.
The next day, after lunch, Greg surprised his older brother by asking about Patrick. By then, the younger boy knew that Wirt's father had passed away around that time and had noticed his brother's sad expression. Wirt remained unfazed, and on that quiet autumn afternoon, with dry leaves covering the backyard, the two boys began to talk.
- "What was your dad like, Wirt?" the younger boy asked, playing with an acorn in his hands.
Wirt remained silent for a few seconds, but soon responded.
- "He was a good man, who loved my mother and me very much. I could also say that he was somewhat... odd."
- "Strange? So you inherited that from your dad?" Greg asked, smiling.
Wirt let out a small laugh.
- "Yes, I suppose so, Greg," he said as he looked towards the trees and tried to sort through memories that had been stored away for years. "He loved old music, and he was always saying ' they don't make songs like that anymore .'"
- "That sounds like you too, Wirt."
Wirt smiled slightly before continuing.
- "He also liked to invent bizarre stories, like the time he convinced me that there was a raccoon living in the kitchen wall that only came out at night to eat Chips Ahoy cookies."
Greg opened his eyes, somewhat surprised.
- "Did we have a criminal raccoon in the house?"
- "No, Greg, there wasn't a raccoon. It was just a joke."
Greg looked disappointed for a few seconds, and his older brother looked down at the dry leaves.
- "But he was so much fun, he did that kind of thing all the time. And when I was scared at night... he'd sit by my bed until I fell asleep," Wirt said, his voice a little softer and more nostalgic. Greg listened intently. "He always seemed to know exactly what to say."
- "Do you miss him a lot, Wirt?" Greg asked, tilting his head slightly.
Wirt took a moment to respond.
- "Yes, Greg, I miss him a lot. There are days when I don't think about it much... and others when I'm overcome with nostalgia remembering him."
Greg looked at his brother with an expression that was strangely serious to him.
- "I think he would be very proud of you, Wirt."
Wirt blinked, a little surprised.
- "Really?"
- "Yes. You're intelligent, you like to write poems, you have a very pretty girlfriend, and you take care of me even though you get frustrated with me more than ten times a day," the boy replied.
- "Only more than ten, Greg?" Wirt asked jokingly.
Greg ignored the comment.
- "And we also defeated the Beast of the Unknown, saving everyone who lives there. Not just anyone would do that and live to tell the tale."
- "That... probably helps," Wirt said with a small, nasal laugh.
- "I bet your dad would have done the same," Greg said, smiling.
Wirt looked at Greg for a few seconds, and then he realized something he never gave much thought to. Although Greg had never met Patrick, and probably wouldn't have existed if not for his death and his mother's subsequent marriage to Jonathan, the boy had inherited some of his warmth, that knack for making others feel better. Wirt gently placed a hand on Greg's head, ruffling his hair a little.
- "Maybe you're right, Greg. I'm sure my dad would have loved to meet you."
- "Of course I'm right, Wirt, and that's a rock fact."
- "I guess the rock is never wrong, right?"
- "The rock feeds on my own wisdom. I like that it learns more and more, and that you love me more and more, Wirt. You're the best brother anyone could ask for."
And so, as the leaves continued to fall around them, for the first time in a long time, talking about his father didn't make Wirt's chest hurt so much.
Life went on, Wirt grew up and eventually married Sara, with whom he had two beautiful children: Elaine, named after Sara's childhood friend whose life was cut short, and Patrick, named after his father, the leader of the band. They were a very happy and close-knit family, and the talent Wirt inherited from his father had made him a professional songwriter who had already worked with major artists, writing songs that had become worldwide hits. His daughter Elaine, in turn, had also inherited that passion and talent for music.
One day in June, on Father's Day, the house smelled of freshly baked sweet bread and hot cinnamon tea. The garden, with its beautiful, bright green lawn and the tree planted over Elaine's placenta to forever remember their firstborn, reflected the morning light, which also streamed through the windows. Inside, Wirt sat at the dining room table, checking the news on his phone, while Sara put the finishing touches on the homemade bread she was putting in the oven for the whole family to enjoy. Across from Wirt, Patrick was clearly hiding something behind his back.
- "Why are you looking at me like that?" Wirt asked suspiciously.
- "I'm not looking at you like that," the boy replied, smiling innocently.
- "Yes, you are, Patrick, are you hiding something?" his father asked.
Sara smiled as she finished serving the cinnamon tea for the four of them.
- "Don't worry, Wirt, I think he wants to surprise you."
- "That worries me even more," Wirt replied.
Before he could say anything else, Elaine, the teenage daughter, came running down the hall.
- "It's ready!" she announced excitedly.
Patrick immediately pulled a handmade card, slightly folded and covered in glitter, from behind his back.
- "Happy Father's Day!"
Elaine handed him another small box, clumsily wrapped in orange paper. Wirt blinked in surprise, while Sara smiled warmly.
- "Happy Father's Day, love," Sara said, kissing her husband on the cheek. Wirt smiled, somewhat perplexed and embarrassed. Becoming a father had changed him, but he still thought about his own father and saw himself reflected in him now that he was one too.
- "You didn't have to do all this, my children," said Wirt, moved.
- "Yes we had," Elaine said, "Mom told us you're sentimental and you might cry."
- "Did you tell them that, darling?" Wirt asked Sara.
- "What's wrong with that, Wirt? It's an objective observation."
Patrick was practically bouncing with excitement.
- "Open the box, Dad!"
Wirt carefully unwrapped the box. Inside was an old, restored photograph. It was that photograph of Patrick—his father—carrying him on his shoulders when he was a child. For a moment, the dining room fell silent. Wirt's smile softened, becoming gentler and more nostalgic. Elaine spoke carefully.
- "Uncle Greg helped us find it."
Wirt slowly ran his fingers over the photograph. His father smiled in the picture exactly as he remembered him: calm, warm, a little disheveled. Patrick, the little boy, watched curiously.
- "Is that my grandfather Patrick?"
Wirt nodded slowly.
- "Was he a good person?" his son asked again.
- "Yes, very much so," Wirt replied, smiling.
Sara placed the cups on the table and sat down next to her husband in silence. Elaine rested her arms on the table.
- "What was he like, Dad?"
Wirt looked at the photograph for a few seconds before answering.
- "Well, he was funny. Kind of weird, but really funny. He liked listening to really old records and telling bizarre stories. Once he tried to convince me that frogs talked to each other when it rained. At this, Patrick's eyes widened in surprise, just like Greg's did when Wirt told him about the raccoons stealing Chips Ahoy from the kitchen."
- "So, do they talk, Dad?
- "No, little one, they can't."
- "Oh."
Sara smiled as her husband continued to cautiously examine the photograph.
- "He was also very patient, when I was a child and was afraid at night... he would stay with me until he fell asleep" - His voice became lower when he said that.
- "Do you miss him, Dad?" Elaine asked, watching him intently.
Wirt took a moment to answer. The question no longer stung as much as before, but it still stirred something deep within him. Finally, he smiled gently.
- "Yes. I will always miss him, even if only a little."
Sara discreetly took his hand under the table, and Wirt intertwined his fingers with hers before continuing.
- "But I think that... over time I learned that missing someone doesn't always have to be sad."
Wirt looked at his children. He felt lucky to have them.
- "Sometimes it can also feel nice to remember all the good things they left behind."
- "Do I look like my grandfather?" Patrick asked, tilting his head.
- "Very much so," his dad replied, smiling.
- "That's great!"
- "Especially when you ask weird questions."
- "That means I'm wise."
- "That definitely doesn't mean that," said Elaine, who had adored her little brother since the day he was born, when she witnessed him come into the world. Everyone laughed a little, and then Elaine pointed at the photograph again.
- "You looked so happy there, Dad. You loved my grandfather very much, and he loved you very much."
Wirt looked at the picture once more and realized Elaine was right. For years, remembering his father had only brought him pain. But now, sitting there with Sara and his children, the memory no longer felt like an open wound. It felt like a part of him. Like something warm that still stayed with him even after all this time. Wirt smiled gently as he held the photograph against his chest.
- "Yes. I was happy. And I am happy today too, being with you all whom I love so much. All of this is thanks to the leader of the band, Patrick Wood. Thank you for everything, Dad, and maybe we'll meet again wherever you are now."
And so, Wirt embraced his wife and children, tears streaming down his face, but they were tears of joy and eternal gratitude. He could ask for nothing more.
That night, Wirt picked up his guitar and there, in his backyard surrounded by his family, he performed that Dan Fogelberg song which, incidentally, said author had written in honor of his own father. Because Patrick's blood ran through Wirt's instrument, his songs were etched into his soul, and Wirt, along with his wife and children, was the living legacy to the leader of the band.
END