Switching things up a bit :)

                    Henry's pov

I sit beside my son's grave, silently fiddling with my thumbs. A slight warm breeze flows through, and i smile.

John use to love sitting in nature, taking in all it's beauty. From the plants to the animals. I never got to see his sketches of landscape, he never told me or spoke of it. But when he passed, i collected his belongings and i saw a little leather book. It was filled many animals, some being turtles and birds, and even fish.

I keep them safe in a memory box, where they can never be harmed.

And upon finding those belongings, there were numerous letters. Both back and forth from each other, discussing many things.

From politics, dreams, and confessions..

I learned a thing or two from reading those letters.

My son was gay. He liked a man who went by Alexander.

I was shocked, never even thought of him being into men. I never told anyone else, because it's frowned upon around here.

I wish he had the courage to tell me though. I guess he thought i would not accept him, which is partially true. Because i myself was taught from my parents that one who loves the same gender as themselves is bad. Which i believed for so long, until i read the letters. I wish me and him were close enough when he was alive, i could've been the supporting father he wanted me to be.

I was a strict father, always pushing him to be something that i never could be. I should've let him be a doctor, pursue his own dream. Not mine.

A scarlet letter, with black ink. I place it upon his grave, using stones to hold it down.

I love my dead gay son. Rest easy.

A gentle breeze flows through, as i rise up from my sitting spot. Daises and long grass flutter, i shed a tear.