The Promise

This mini story came to me one day a few weeks ago and has been swimming around my head. I'm not sure how it's going to end or what's going to happen. I don't know this little boy (now all grown up) but I think I'd like to ...
It started out with a watch. And a promise. It was just a simple watch, something his dad had probably picked up at Target or some other similar store. But to him, because it was a gift from his father, it meant everything. It had a simple black rubber strap, and there was nothing intricate or detailed about the large face and small hands. It was simple and undorned and yet, it was special.
Whenever he thought of his father, he felt a great loss. His father was a quiet man who often kept his thoughts to himself. He was a difficult person to know and yet he had a quiet strength and warm humor about him. As the years passed, memories of what he looked like and things they talked about began to fade, until he became only a whisper of someone who used to love him, who used to watch him play with his friends, who left the world far too soon. As the years passed, his mother had put away the pictures one by one and the only time he was mentioned was in passing during family gatherings or when someone suggested they should watch the old family movies they'd created. Yet he still kept inside him the memory of his father, and the constant reminder of his promise.
He had almost forgotten about the watch, hidden away in some drawer taking up a home next to large white sport socks. Yet he could not forget. It had broken years before and he had yet to get it fixed, partially because every time he picked it up, he was reminded of memories of a person he would never get to see again. He still had so many questions to ask and so many things left unsaid ...
Yet for some reason, while searching for a quarter or some other item that had fallen into the drawer, he felt it and picked it up. He looked down at it, a sense of sadness rushing into him stronger than he realized it would. He rubbed his fingers absently over the face, wiping off whatever lint had accumulated; he couldn't help but remember the last real moments he had with his father.
In those days, you didn't ask your father what kind of person he was, you watched, you observed, you emulated. For some reason, they had never been as close as he wished they had been; he took his presence for granted almost up until the end. But it was what he asked him in his last few moments with his father that he would never forget.
Whenever his father spoke, he always listened carefully for whatever words of wisdom he offered. When his father spoke, everyone listened. Now, here he was, weakened, vulnerable. He waited anxiously and his father said, in an almost whisper. "When I'm gone ... promise me that you'll take care of your mother." But he wasn't the strong one; he wasn't supposed to have to watch his father pass into the next world right in front of him. His father was supposed to be the one to take care of his mother, be there to watch him get married, watch him grow up.
"Do you promise, son?" Of course there was only one logical answer, and it escaped his lips even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly that meant. He could feel as though some powerful magic had just made him and his father closer in that moment than they'd ever been before. It was as if, in that moment, he had a glimpse of what the world was supposed to be and all of the love and hope that it contained because in that moment, he realized how much his father loved him, even though, looking back years later, he couldn't recall if his father actually said the words or that he just remembered it that way.
It was just a watch, but it was yet another reminder of the promise he'd made. He unconsciously rubbed its face again and reality snapped back into view. He set the watch aside, promising himself that he'd take the time to get it fixed. After all, it was more than just a random useless gift; it was a birthday gift from his father, his hero.
So much had changed, and yet nothing important had. His mother still lived in the same house, partially perhaps because on some level, it was still full of the memories of him, and partially because it just didn't seem fair to move on without him.
Deep down, he wondered if his father would be proud of him; would he approve of his life? What would he say if only he was there once more? He had no way of knowing whether or not he was doing the right thing, but he always tried to live right, be a good person, and love with his whole heart.
These thoughts of his father were overshadowed, as the time passed, by the complexity and ordinary business of daily life. But in the back of his mind, he always strove to be the person his father was, and be the man who never broke a promise ...