Victoria, July 19 / 2024
The son of my friend Paul, Steven, was raised by a single father. He was less than a year old when his mother left her husband and son and flew to New York with a rapper she met online. She left Canada and her family without explaining anything to anyone and didn't even leave a goodbye note. Only on the third day after her sudden disappearance did Paul receive a letter from her lawyer through whom the divorce was finalized. Since then, neither Paul nor Steven heard anything from the runaway wife and mother.
To raise his only son alone, Paul took on two jobs, working 12 hours a day, six days a week. This allowed him to afford a nanny for his child, then an expensive Montessori kindergarten. Paul couldn't afford a private school for Steven, but he managed to pay for his son's guitar and banjo classes, then kickboxing and skiing lessons, as well as annual trips to ski resorts and even three summer trips to Europe with school groups made up of select classmates – children of wealthy parents. "My son should not have any complexes," Paul thought, working tirelessly and periodically going into debt.
After graduating from high school, Steven wished to study at a university. Since he didn't show much academic success in school, he couldn't count on scholarships and grants, but his father found a way to pay for his education so that his son wouldn't have to take out a student loan, which would eventually need to be repaid with interest.
At university, Steven studied finance and philosophy. He didn't excel academically but managed to pass his exams satisfactorily. He frequently attended parties with friends and, like almost everyone in his circle, became addicted to soft drugs. He had a couple of romantic relationships with girls, but they didn't last long. On the eve of his twenty-third birthday, Steven shot himself with his father's pistol, which was kept in a safe that the clever young man managed to open. He left a suicide note for his father:
"Dad, you gave me everything needed for life, but you gave me nothing worth living for."
The shock and grief of the unfortunate father are beyond description. He even had to seek help from psychiatrists and psychologists, but about a year later, he seemed to recover and now lives a quiet, somewhat reclusive life. He works not on two jobs like he did before he lost his son, but only on one (now this income is enough for him) and seems psychologically stable. Although... who knows what is really going on inside him?
As for me... I feel very sorry for Paul, but for some reason, I don't feel sorry for his late son at all. Maybe I'm just too callous and heartless a person?
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