The Rocket Man by Ray Bradbury

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time

I have that Elton John song stuck in my head ever since reading this. It’s a Ray Bradbury double feature kind of day, which is always a treat. The Rocket Man is absolutely wonderful, maybe even one of his very best short stories. It definitely deserves to be in that upper-tier category, for sure. 

This is a simple story, but it’s also haunting, tender, and heartbreaking. It centers on a fractured family: a son, his mother, and a father whose job takes him far beyond Earth. He’s a space explorer, constantly traveling from planet to planet, and that life leaves very little room for rest, stability, or real connection. When he does return home, it’s only temporary, and even then, the family never quite feels whole. There’s always the knowledge that he will be leaving again.

The mother lives in a constant state of quiet agony. The only way she can psychologically survive the cycle of reunion and departure is by pretending her husband is already dead. It's a coping mechanism because if she can accept that loss upfront, maybe it won’t hurt as much when he leaves for real.

The father exists in a liminal space, never fully grounded in Earth-time. His life belongs to the stars, and while he loves his family, he can’t fully inhabit their world. When he’s home, he’s distant and withdrawn. He spends hours in his garden, digging into the soil, desperately trying to anchor himself to Earth, to feel rooted somewhere. But it never quite works. He’s always looking up at the sky, torn between wanting to stay and feeling the pull of the rocket ship calling him back. His purpose has given his life meaning, but it has also created an unbridgeable distance between him and the people he loves.

Then there’s Doug, the son, who longs for a father figure who can truly be there for him, especially during these formidable years. As the story unfolds, he begins to understand that this is likely all he’ll ever get. These brief visits, half-presence, borrowed moments. Doug learns to treasure what little time he has with his father, knowing it’s fleeting. That awareness of loving someone while already grieving their absence, gives the story its palpable, crushing power.

So much of The Rocket Man is built around stillness and silence: small moments loaded with unspoken longing, scenes of connection that never quite materialize into something substantial. The yearning is constant, and fulfillment always feels just out of reach. It’s understated and emotionally devastating. Once again, Bradbury’s short-story magic shines bright. His prose flows with such ease, leaving a lingering ache long after the final page.