Mr. Joko worked as a comedian and a clown. He lived his days with enthusiasm and a simple life. He often performed at birthday parties and small events, bringing laughter to children. But behind his wide smile, he kept a tinge of sadness—he knew his only son, Dika, was often embarrassed by his profession.
In their modest home, Mr. Joko always tried to spread smiles and joy. One night, he noticed Dika coming home with a gloomy face. Dika, who looked exhausted, refused to talk and just went straight to his room. Mr. Joko tried to ask how his son was doing, but as usual, Dika only replied briefly,
"Nothing's wrong, Dad, I'm just tired."
Dika wasn't very close to his father. After his mother's passing, he became increasingly withdrawn and kept everything to himself. Even the bullying he experienced at school—he never told a soul.
During recess, he often sat alone, staring at his spoon in the cafeteria. Some kids from another class approached him.
"Hey, Dika, is your dad going to be the clown at the school event? We wanna watch!" one of the kids said, laughing.
Dika tried to ignore them, but the teasing continued.
"If your dad's a clown, then what does that make you? A clown's kid? Hahaha!" The kids kept mocking him, pointing their fingers.
Dika clenched his spoon tightly and stayed silent. He knew fighting back would only make things worse, though the bullying grew cruel and relentless.
One day, a friend named Aldo played a video of Mr. Joko performing at a birthday party. In the video, Mr. Joko wore colorful clown clothes, thick makeup, and a big red nose, making the whole class burst out laughing.
"That's your dad, right? Hahaha, hilarious! You must be good at jokes too, huh?" the kids roared, filling the cafeteria with their laughter.
"When's he gonna teach you to be funny like him?" another one mocked.
Dika lowered his head further, his face flushed red. He wanted to run as fast as he could, but his legs felt heavy. It was as if every eye in the cafeteria was staring at him.
After school, Dika walked home. Along the way, he heard voices behind him.
"Hey, clown's kid! Don't forget to invite us next time your dad performs! We wanna laugh!"
They mocked him while throwing crumpled papers his way. Dika was furious and heartbroken. He went home, holding back tears.
At home, he entered without greeting his father, went to his room, and slammed the door. He sat on the floor, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Why me? Why does Dad have to be a clown?" he muttered softly.
During dinner, Dika couldn't hold in the storm of anger that had built up inside him. While Mr. Joko excitedly told a story about his performance earlier that day, Dika suddenly slammed the table, cutting his father off.
"Why can't you find another job? I'm sick of being teased at school! Why do you have to be a clown?!"
Mr. Joko was stunned and quietly asked, "Teased? Who's teasing you, son?"
"Everyone! They call me the clown's kid. They laugh at you! I'm tired of it! Why can't you think about me even just a little?" Dika's voice rose, turning the dinner atmosphere tense.
Mr. Joko lowered his head, trying to hold back tears. He hadn't realized his job hurt his son so much. In a trembling voice, he said, "I just wanted you to eat, to go to school. I didn't have another choice, son."
But Dika, still overcome with anger, stood up from his chair.
"I hate all of this! I hate that you're a clown!" Dika stormed into his room and slammed the door.
Mr. Joko sat alone at the dinner table, staring at the now-unappetizing food. He could only mutter softly, "I'm sorry, son. I never meant to embarrass you."
As the sun rose, Dika, who had been lost in thought all night, began to feel remorse. He realized his father worked hard for him. Dika saw his father sitting in the living room, mending his torn clown costume. Mr. Joko looked serious as he stitched carefully, though his face was tired and gloomy. Dika stood at the doorway, hesitant.
"Dad…" Dika's voice broke the silence.
Mr. Joko looked up, surprised to hear his son's voice. He immediately put the costume down.
"Yes, son? What is it?" he asked gently.
Dika approached, sitting beside him. His hands trembled, but he finally spoke.
"I'm sorry about last night. I said some awful things. I don't hate you, Dad. I'm proud of you."
Mr. Joko was taken aback by Dika's words, then smiled faintly. He reached out and stroked Dika's head. "I'm sorry too, son. I never wanted to make you feel ashamed. If you want, I'll try to find another job."
Dika shook his head. "No need, Dad. I just want you to be happy. You should keep being a clown. The world needs laughter, right?"
Mr. Joko smiled again, this time wider. He hugged Dika tightly, pouring out all his love. "Thank you, son. You're an amazing kid. I'm proud of you."
Dika left for school with a lighter heart. He was relieved to have mended things with his father. On his way home, while crossing the road near their house, a speeding car came from the left. The driver lost control and didn't have time to brake. A loud horn blared, followed by the deafening sound of a crash.
Mr. Joko, who was in the yard, ran toward the noise. He froze when he saw Dika lying on the road, blood flowing from his temple.
"Son! Son! Wake up!" Mr. Joko cried, shaking Dika's body.
People gathered around as an ambulance arrived. Mr. Joko accompanied Dika to the hospital, holding his hand tightly and praying.
"Dad, I'm proud of you. Don't quit being a clown," Dika whispered.
"You have to hold on, son. We're almost at the hospital," Mr. Joko replied, trying to comfort him.
But fate had already made its decision. At the hospital, the doctor sighed and shook his head.
"We did everything we could, sir. We're sorry."
Mr. Joko collapsed to the floor, unable to believe what had just happened. His breath caught, and his eyes poured out tears like a faucet. He cried loudly, uncaring of his surroundings. Dika's final words echoed in his ears, becoming an eternal memory.
Dika's death left a deep wound. Mr. Joko was devastated and lost. In his sorrow, anger took over. He began blaming the kids who bullied Dika.
He kept replaying memories of Dika coming home looking downcast and remembered the stories of his classmates' ridicule. In his mind, those children were the root of all of it.
One night, he sat in a park near his house, plotting revenge. He even wrote down the names of the kids who used to bully Dika, hoping one day he could make them feel the same pain.
While he was lost in thought, a young man in simple clothes sat beside him—Serafim. Serafim didn't say much. He just sat quietly, as if he knew what Mr. Joko was going through.
Mr. Joko glanced at Serafim with a frown. "Who are you? Why are you sitting here?"
Serafim simply turned and smiled. The air around them felt still, with only the soft night breeze.
Mr. Joko felt strange, as if Serafim had always been there. He was about to speak again when Serafim softly said:
"Your anger won't bring Dika back, Mr. Joko. He wants you to let go of this burden."
Mr. Joko was stunned. "What do you mean? You know who I am? You know Dika?"
Serafim just nodded slightly, then said, "I'm here to help you find peace, Mr. Joko. Dika wouldn't want to see you like this."
Mr. Joko stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was something different about Serafim. He felt a strange connection but couldn't explain why. He stayed silent, and tears began to fill his eyes.
"I… I can't go on like this. I want revenge on those who made Dika suffer."
Serafim looked at him with deep understanding but without judgment. "Revenge won't bring Dika back. It'll only keep you trapped in darkness."
Mr. Joko fell silent, absorbing Serafim's words. He felt fear and sadness, but also a strange sense of relief. He decided to follow Serafim's advice. He took the first steps out of the darkness, trying to let go of the vengeance that had consumed him and stopped thinking about punishing the children who once mocked Dika.
One night, Serafim returned. This time, he brought Mr. Joko to a familiar park, where he saw the kids who used to tease Dika. They looked anxious, as if burdened with guilt after hearing of Dika's passing. One of them was crying, staring at his phone, muttering words of regret.
Mr. Joko stood silently. He wanted to confront them and unleash his anger, but he held himself back.
"Look at them. They regret it. You don't need to punish them. Forgiveness is the nobler path," Serafim said softly.
His heart softened, and he remembered Dika's words—how he always wanted his father to be a bringer of laughter. Dika never wanted to see him trapped in hatred.
Serafim stood beside Mr. Joko, never revealing who he truly was. He simply gave guidance and comfort.
Mr. Joko wiped his tears and felt ready to let go of his anger. He chose to forgive those children, even though the pain still lingered. He walked away, leaving them with their guilt.
Mr. Joko began to rise again. He returned to performing as a comedian to fulfill Dika's last request. He lived his days spreading laughter again, though part of him remained hollow—a void nothing could fill. Month after month, year after year passed, with sweet smiles and cheerful jokes escaping from his kind lips.
After a performance, he sat in the living room, gazing at a photo of Dika with a bright smile. He felt tired, his aging body barely able to bear the...
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