After his father had passed away during the storm, Benjamin Wulford, which everyone called Beowulf, had never considered what life would be after such a major event.  With his home destroyed and no immediate family in the small town he had grown up in, the local police chief had offered him a spare room at his home until things could be worked out.  Terrified of being left alone in a foreign home that he didn’t know, Beowulf spent the next week riding as the co-pilot with the police chief.  As they drove around, Beowulf would watch the police chief fidget with a 45 caliber bullet that he always seemed to carry in his pocket.  Even when in his office and talking on the phone, the man continued to rub the bullet between his index finger and thumb.

Beowulf had not spoken since the deadly event had occurred, partly from shock, but mostly from regret knowing that he contributed to his father’s death.  Yet, as the ceremony completed, he had no tears for the man he had called “Father”.  Unmoving from his chair at the front, he was staring at the casket when a woman crouched down directly in front of him, breaking his trance.  As he looked into the woman’s eyes, his mind began to process the words she said “Benjamin, I’m your Aunt Ruth.  I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but I’m here now and everything is going to be ok.  You’re coming to live with me and my husband in Detroit.”  Beowulf wanting to see malice or contempt in her eyes, only found compassion and warmth.  Looking up from the woman, a well dressed man stood confidently, nodding in concurrence with the words she was saying.  Looking back, he refocused on her comments “…..take as much time as you need.  We’ll stay as long as you want”.  And with that, she moved to the chair beside him and sat, then put an arm around his shoulders in a light embrace.

Mind racing, he could never remember his father talking about his family.  Beowulf had assumed that his father was an only child as he had never spoken of having a sister.  Looking in the direction of the casket once more, Beowulf realized that he really didn’t know this man he had called “father”.  His only memories were of drunken beatings and many long nights dreading the sound of footsteps in the hallway.  With his mother passing away at an early age due to illness, he had no memory of her other than a portrait that had been destroyed during the storm.  But now strangers had shown up in his life, claiming to be relatives.

After several minutes, his mind slowed and and emotions repressed, he stood from his chair and looked at the woman and simply nodded.  With a warm smile, she nodded back, seeming to understand that he didn’t want to speak.  As she and her husband stood, Beowulf saw the police chief standing by the doorway of the funeral home.  Without waiting for the couple, Beowulf walked up to the man, looking up into the man’s compassionate face.  No longer able to hold back his tears, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the man that had given him shelter and stability for the last week.  Once the first tears had escaped, they were quickly followed by sobs as the boy clutched to the officers waist.  The officer embraced him, rubbing Beowulf’s back in slow circles, as the cleansing continued.

As the sobs began to slow, Beowulf was finally able to get a certain level of self control and stepped back from the officer.  Wiping his eyes and feeling gentle hands from the woman rest on his shoulders, he looked up for a last time into the officer’s eyes.  Much to his shock, a tear was running down the officer’s face.  Then the police chief reached into his pocket and pulled out the 45 caliber bullet and placed it in Beowulf’s small hand before saying “Everything is going to be fine son.  Mind keeping this for me?”  Beowulf looked down at the gift and for the first time in over a week, spoke. “Thank you” were the only words that came from his mouth as he clutched the bullet tightly in his hand and walked out the doorway into the sunshine of a new day.