As I sat beside my ailing Father, there was a burning urge to ease the pain in my heart and tell him my mind. The unethical nature of the urge, had made It even more difficult for me to voice out. Yet I was bent on achieving the manifest aim of my visit, no matter the draining cost it had on my personality. I took a deep breath and finally found the words to speak.
"Father. You have been sick for too long. A better percentage of your fortune has been exhausted in treating this cancer of yours. It's only getting worse." I said and sighed deeply before finding the courage to finish what I had started.
" Soon, we are going to run out of funds and have nothing to fall back on when you eventually leave us." I said to the old man, who lay weakly, gazing at the ceiling of the hospital wall. He had been suffering from the worst stage of colon cancer for eight months and so far, all the fortunes spent to redeem his health, had been washed into the drain.
The effect of my words dealt him a fatal blow. I could see the pain in his eyes. He didn't expect to hear such hurtful words from the person he loved the most. It was the love which he had for me and Cathedral, my younger sister, that had suddenly sent him into dilemma of decisions, till his sunken eyes went moist in tears and soon began to overflow in a succinct stream that ran across his face.
I could feel his pain. I could read every single thought in his heart, just as if it was mine. The pain of leaving us behind was disheartening to him, yet it was the pain of fighting to hold on for us and Leaving us with nothing, that broke his heart the more.
" Williams" My father muttered in his sickness stricken voice.
" Yes Father." I replied and took my gaze away from his suffering.
" How old are you now?" He muttered as his breathing became tense.
" I am twenty four years old father." I replied, finding the stomach to return my gaze at him.
" Great. Twenty years ago when you were just four years old. I took you on a safari trip to Africa." Do you remember?" He said in his slow and uneven tone.
" Very well sir. I remember it all." I said and began to feel guilty about what I had earlier said.
" You were playing in the resort garden when I heard you scream. I rushed out and found that you had been bitten by a black mamba. Do you recall?" My father said, still speaking in hallow tone of weakness.
" On my left leg. Yes I recall father." I said to him and held his arm even more firmly, knowing the sacrifice and emotional ordeal that proceeded the Story.
" When we rushed you to the hospital. The Doctor Said we had came in too late and you wouldn't make it. I grabbed him by his shirts and cursed at him. I used to be a very strong man then." Said my Father and smiled warmly. It was piercing, as it took me back to the good old days when he was healthy and happy.
" Superman. I called you superman Dad." I said and sniffed in, trying to hold back my sobs. He took a deep breath and continued to speak.
" You were in a coma for seven days and all the blood in your body had to be drained out due to the effects of the venom in your system. I was healthy and well. I gave you all the blood I could give and on the ninth day, your body became cold and immobile. I rushed out calling the doctor. He came in, did his checks and finally pronounced you dead. God forbid I said . Not my son. My son can't die at four years old. His life has just got started. I cried out and grabbed you to my bosom, refusing to allow them take you to the mortuary. I held on to you for more than an hour until God himself was pleased with my devotion and restored your life back to you."
" Oh Father." I said and burst into a deep sob while clutching his bony hands passionately.
" I'm sorry father. I have failed you." I said to him as I bent my head downwards from the shame that my miscalculated words had caused me.
" Don't be sorry. What you have asked for is what I should have done in the past months. I wanted to be alive for the both of you. I guess I was just being stingy. It's high time I call it a day." My father said and sighed deeply as his cornea breamed, laying off the new tears that had accumulated in his eyes.
" That's not what meant dad." I muttered in shame, hiding my face away from his gaze.
" Don't be a coward and don't be a weakling. This is not who you are. You must execute what you have travelled down here to execute. You and Cathedral can have a decent life with what's left of my fortune." My old man said, gazing straight at me.
" I can't do that Father. I'm a priest. I'm soon to be ordained in the church of Christ. I can't have your blood on my hands." I sobbed as I placed my teary face on his bony shoulder.
" Williams. You have my permission to end it all. If I live past this night, the span of my insurance would be exhausted and the fortune I have left would be taken away by the hospital, to further my treatment. Nothing would be left for you and your sister. Do the needful while you still can. Turn off the life support and leave quietly. Do it now while you can William. I'm suffering. Death is mercy for me. I forbid you to withhold mercy from me." My father said, in his weak old tone as he cried silently on his sickbed.
But then who was I fooling. It had been the reason why I left the Vatican city. I knew of the diminishing health insurance and I knew if he had lived past today. We would be left with nothing. The time to be weak was over. A tear drop, rolled down my cheek. It was the first time I had cried in twenty years, since Being bitten by that snake in Nairobi. I cleaned my eyes and finally had to composure to speak.
" Father. I love you very much. I'm going to miss you. Thank you for everything. You have suffered for too long. It's only fair I bail you from your ordeal." I said to him, before kissing his forehead.
" Take care of Cathedral. Tell her I love her very much. Tell her that death was mercy for me. Indeed murder is merciful." My old man said and closed his eyes in wait for the healing hands of death.
" She shall hear dad. Rest in heavenly peace." I said, stood up, switched off the life support and headed out of the room wearing my black coat and bowler heart. I may have committed murder, but it came with a feeling of satisfaction, knowing my good dad was in a better place.
[Three months Later]
My fathers funeral had come and gone, leaving behind a series of sober reflections on the good old days when life was beautiful and worth living. Switching off the life support machine, had been really easy compared to the abundant horrors that came with it. I could hardly sleep at night due to the incessant nightmares which were reoccurring. The notion of killing my own dad had left a deep scar in my conscience till I could hardly look at my own face in the mirror. I had to result in wearing dark googles to prevent me from seeing the eyes of a murderer even though I gave them solace in the sockets of my skull. The death of my father kept on hunting me and soon my nightmares and inability to pay attention to the teachings of the scriptures had gotten the best of me. I became unnecessarily violent to my course mates, striking them with harmful objects at the slightest provocation. An evaluation was carried out on me by the Vatican doctors who all came to a consensus that my mental health was compromised. It saw me getting expelled from the Vatican school of priesthood.
Well. They didn't actually use the term "expel". They sugarcoated the term to " indefinite probation." It tore me apart and my only hope was to plead with the pope who was a good friend of my father.
" Please padre. You can't allow them send me out of the academy. It's was the dream of my father, that I become a priest. Please father, be merciful." I cried to the paramount priest after storming into his office to beg him.
" Oh my son. Take it easy on yourself. Don't tell me you haven't learned a single thing from all your three years in this school. The work of the lord is a divine calling. It's not like studying to become a doctor or an engineer, where you choose what profession you want to practice. Here, the lord chooses who he wants and let go of who he wants as well. It doesn't mean the lord hates you. No. Not at all. He is full of love and mercies. Now he wants you to go home and seek the peace you have failed to find here. My son, the Cathedral is simply not your calling." Pope Vinicius said as he nodded his octogenarian head in agreement to his own words.
" Father please. Have mercy. You can't do this to me. I have been here for three years. I just have three months till graduation. Be merciful on me father." I cried, prostrating over and Clutching the edge of his regalia.
" Mercy is what has come to you. Go home my child. It's not the end of life. Nothing leant here is a waste. I'm sure, your father would be pleased with you, knowing the circumstances his death has put you. Please leave now and do not beg any more for what is not in power to grant." Father Vinicius said and proceeded to read his bible, just like, I was never there. Feeling dejected and my ego bruised. I stood up, cleaned my teary face and left his office, never to return again until a dire need would arrive.
However, I came into the church of the lord a human and came out a beast, stripped off any ability to administer Mercy. It was the beginning of the monster I had become.