I Killed My Dad…

Peter

I start with the holy sign of the cross just as mom had taught me. The priest- Father David, starts reading a passage from the Holy Scripture, but I cannot hear him anymore. Mom’s face flashes in front of me, her ever energetic posture, and her infectious smile flickering before my eyes. Pain rips through my heart in waves, tearing me apart.

“You okay, son?” Father David is holding me in his arms, shaking me, calling me to wake up.

“Yes Father. Sorry.” I mutter my throat sore.

“It looks like you can use a bath. And a decent meal too.” He remarks.

I shake my head, indicating a negative, not wanting to delay my confession any longer.

“You sure?” He asks.

“You are a mess. Here.”

He says and hands me a glass of water. I gulp it down quickly, and the dusty floor fills my line of vision again as I lower my head.

**

Father David

I don’t know what troubles him, but something does. Something serious. May the lord bless him. He refuses a bath or the food, but relishes the water – has he even eaten?

I don’t think so. His ragged clothes and messy hair indicate the troubles he’s been through. His bloodshot eyes show that he hasn’t slept in days and the sunken cheeks, now having lost their color, make the dark curves below his eyes more prominent.

He lowers his head and starts.

**

Peter

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was six weeks ago.”

I repeat, every word coming easily to me, for I had been practicing it for the last week.

I pause, not sure how to go on.

“Continue, son.” He prompts me, his eyes pointing towards the sky. “He’s listening”

“Father… I… um…” I stutter, unsure, as fear envelopes me. This is the moment of truth, I tell myself. No backing away now. Get a grip, Pete!

“Yes…?” He’s expecting an answer.

“Um… I… I killed… my dad…” I whisper, tears pooling into my eyes.

There it is. I’ve said it. I sigh inaudibly, an extremely heavy weight lifted from over my heart.

There’s a long moment of silence as neither of us speaks. He seems to be lost in thought. He looks up to me in shock but his voice is calm.

“Continue.” He whispers.

I start sobbing and he embraces me, holding me in his arms, comforting me, as my tears fall down onto his black robe.

**

Father David

I cannot believe my ears. He says he killed his father. But why?

I urge him to continue, to let it all out; otherwise the grief will kill him. He starts crying and I try to soothe him, to ease his pain.

“He used to beat me… beat mommy…” he says between sobs, “He… money… he wanted money… and mommy… she refused…”

His legs tremble along with his body shaking and he grasps my arm for support.

“He killed mommy…” He whispers, between his painful moans.

I wince, and flinch at the horror and pain the kid has witnessed. I stroke his greasy hair while he cries, his face buried into my chest and his arm clinging to my back in desperation.

“He killed her… He killed her…” He repeats in agony.

**

Peter

I tremble as the images come to me, flickering before my eyes slowly, torturing me. Dad beating mommy… Dad hitting me…. I squeeze my eyes shut but the images still linger as if carved into me…

Dad is hitting mommy… She’s falling, her arms wide, reaching out, to me…. Her head hitting the corner of the table… blood oozing out rapidly… her body- cold…..

I shudder.

“Son, murder is a mortal sin.”

His voice catches me, his hands weaving through my hair in a soothing pattern.

“It’s a grave sin, but the Lord is merciful.”

I stop crying for an instant as I feel the slightest ray of hope emerging from beyond the sea of darkness.

“Son, you must repent for your sins. If you’re truly sorry, the Lord shall forgive you. Have faith son. By his grace, rectify your life.”

“I am sorry.”

I mumble and take a step back, staring at him with helplessness in my eyes.

“I am sorry for all the sins of my life.” I say.

He smiles a reassuring smile and nods.

I start repeating the words, fighting back my tears.

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.”

**

Father David

He repeats The Act of Contrition with utmost sincerity, but sorrow still lingers in his voice. One he finishes, I conclude the confession.

“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.” I say.

“For His mercy endures forever.” His weak voice joins mine.

**

Peter

We stare at each other for long moments.

“Is that all?” I ask finally, breaking the silence.

“Yes son. That is all. He freed you of all your sins. The Almighty forgave you.” He says.

“Then why doesn’t it feel different?” I ask flatly, for my inner struggle hasn’t stopped.

**

Father David

His question takes me by surprise. How to tell him that he will never be the same; that he shall have to live with it for the rest of his life!

“Son, murder is a grim sin. You will have to live with it, to make peace with yourself.”

I try to explain as his curious eyes and expectant ears receive and process my every word.

His eyes are helpless and his expressions shout only one question : BUT HOW ??

“Look son. Your father used to do… um… bad things” I try to resolve his struggle.

“And you only tried to save your mum. That’s a good thing. Don’t worry son. The Lord will look after you.”

He is still silent, but nods every now and then, indicating that he’s listening to me.

“The Lord has freed you from your sins. Go in peace, son.” I say and pat his back.

“Thanks to be God.” He says and turns away, a new man, with a renewed faith, a ray of hope flickering in his eyes.

May He Bless all…

__END__