A Father's Lament

Hi ,everyone. Hope you're all doing well.

I would just like to saythat I mean absolutely no disrespect to any religions or religious people whatsoever. This is just how I picture something like this would go in the American Dad universe. (But a more serious American Dad universe)

It was a Sunday. Not only was it God's day, it was also a day of rest. A day to be with family. A day to visit a place of worship and learn how to be a better person. A day where a man could relax and enjoy himself before getting ready to return to the monotony of office life.

They found out Steve was dead on a Sunday. Murdered. After spending 12 agonising, terrifying hours wondering where he was, they then had to learn that someone had killed him.

Stan had always believed that everything happened for a reason. He might not always understand God's reasoning, but he would never question it. God would always provide. That was what he had been taught his entire life, and he'd always believed it.

Until his son was killed. Now he believed in nothing. Why would God take his child? Not only that, why would He take Steve in such a cruel way? Everything happened for a reason. What reason could there possibly be for his son to be murdered?

Those were the thoughts that swarmed Stan's mind - when he wasn't drunk, that is. The majority of his sober hours were spent in his office, poring over his Bible, trying to find a psalm or a passage that would help him. 'Everything happens for a reason', he told himself, flipping through the pages. There had to be something in there; itwasn't called the Good Book for nothing.

But what was the reason? Was it to make him stronger? Stan failed to see how him breaking down and crying every day made him a stronger person. To show the world how cruel people could be? Impossible; that was already a well-known fact. Or could Steve's death be the final straw, the one that convinced judges all over the world to lock people like that away for good? Stan had trouble believing that, as God could have done that years ago if He really wanted to.

Besides, God had tested his faith years ago, and Stan had regained it. He couldn't imagine why God would want to do it again.

Every night he prayed. He prayed to God to bring Steve back and take him instead. Of course, no matter how hard he prayed, it didn't happen, and so Stan came to the conclusion that there was no God. There couldn't be a God, because Stan could not understand why his family were being punished like this. Because God could bring Steve back if He really wanted to, right?

Steve had done nothing that deserved what had happened to him, and neither had Stan or his family. He'd lived his life according to the Bible, and this was how God thanked him? By killing his boy?

Taking another swig of beer, Stan stared at the framed picture of Jesus in his office, swaying slightly. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

"Fuckyou!" he snarled, ripping the picture off the wall and hurling it to the ground, where it shattered. Stan looked down at the broken glass littering floor, feeling like it was a visual representation of his heart. "Bring back my son," he said to the photo. But he got no answer. He took another gulp of beer. "Take me instead."

The photo, unsurprisingly, said nothing.

If Steve's death had been an accident, maybe Stan could have 'come to terms' with it, for lack of a better phrase. It was unlikely, but perhaps he would be able to talk to his wife and daughter, to talk about Steve, and eventually be able to remember the good times they'd had. Okay, that was a lie, but still, his son dying in an accident might have been easier to cope with. Someone had deliberately done this. Someone had taken his son into their home and killed him, and Stan couldn't make sense of it.