long I don’t know if that’s normal behavior for girls these days or if she was truly infatuated with me. She kept asking me questions about my writing and I promised her I would show her something the next time I came by.
It’s been a while since I’ve given anything to you to read, hasn’t it? There are some stories in my desk at my house if you want to read them. I have stories from when we were kids in one of the boxes there. Maybe the girls would enjoy reading them. I know I enjoyed writing them.
I’ve been thinking about Mom a lot lately. I don’t actually remember too much about her, but I have the pictures and your stories. You made her seem so loving and powerful. I wish I had known her, but I’m happy I always had you.
My head has been hurting for a while now. I took a break from writing to try to clear my head but it isn’t helping. I’m going to get back to work.
Love,
Ken
Pray
I knelt at my bedside, praying still. It had become customary for me to pray for hours before I went to sleep. Constantly pleading for God’s forgiveness, I never forgot the event that changed me forever. I prayed to the Lord to bless me and my late father. I asked for other blessings, but asked for special blessings for my family. I did not expect to be granted those blessings, as I had not heard God’s voice in years. At the age of sixty, I was willing to accept whatever my fate was at the hands of my great Creator.
I finished my prayers that night and lay in my bed. I would not wake up the next morning. God had forgiven me and accepted me into Heaven. My father was not there.
Thirty-five years ago, I looked out at the patrons filing into the Church. The service proceeded as usual. Admittedly, the routines of the Catholic Church bored me. However, I took delight in delivering my sermon. It gave me the platform to express my opinions and beliefs and to help others see and accept God into their lives. My sermon that day was about respect. I told the patrons that the most important respect they need to have is for God and the Lord, but that in order to respect God, they had to respect other people first. I emphasized that even the worst criminals have respectable qualities, and that true respect for the Lord is pivotal in salvation.
I finished my sermon and took communion. I gave communion to the patrons and finished the service. I took some time to pray by myself, as I did after every service. I thanked God for my health and the health of my family, and asked forgiveness for my transgressions. I thanked Him for my father and for my father’s teachings. I also thanked Him for the intelligence and social skills I was blessed with.
I completed my prayers and headed for the classroom. I had a group of boys to teach that day. They wanted to learn about priesthood. My father had taught the class until that year, when he let me take over. There were ten boys in my group from ages six to twelve. That day I spoke to them about loyalty among members of the priesthood. I told them that a priest’s closest brothers are his fellow priests. I thought of my father and his friends while I told them this. They had done so much for me. My father had been so good to me and had raised me with so much compassion. I was proud to teach that class in his place. I used that relationship with my father as an example of loyalty. I told the boys that loyalty to God is important and that it can be learned through the loyalty of the priesthood.
When I dismissed the class, I spoke with the parents of the boys, as I always did. I told them how their sons were doing and my opinion on if priesthood was right for them. The parents were eager to hear from me and they were all very friendly and accepting of my opinions.
I waited in the Church hall with an eight-year old boy in my class. His parents had not yet arrived. We prayed together. We knew the reason his parents were late, but we prayed for their safety, anyway. He told me he needed to go to the bathroom and he headed towards the classroom, as there was one in there.
I closed my eyes and prayed. I said basic prayers and asked for the things I always did. I also prayed that the boy was okay in the bathroom. Anytime someone went somewhere alone, I prayed for him. I finished my prayers after about five minutes, then began walking around the Church. I looked up and down the benches, looking for anything that might have been left during service. I found a purse. It had a wallet and various other items in it. As I picked it up, a woman ran into the Church. She yelled to me, saying that the purse was hers. I gave it back to her and she thanked me for finding it for her. As she left, I felt good for helping her. I enjoyed doing good.
I began to notice that the boy had been in the bathroom for quite some time. I decided to go knock on the door and make sure he was okay. As I made my way to the classroom, I heard my father’s voice. I peered into the classroom and was horrified at what I saw. The boy was sitting in a chair with his pants and underwear around his ankles. My father had his left hand between the boy’s legs and he was praying for the boy. He then kissed the boy and told him that he needed salvation. My stomach was twisted and I wanted to throw up. My father pressed his lips to the boy again and let them sit for a few seconds. I started feeling dizzy.
They couldn’t see me and I wondered to myself why I wasn’t doing anything about it. I continued to witness my father do unspeakable things to the boy and I eventually had to run to the bathroom on the other side of the Church. As I vomited out all the contents of my stomach I tried to make sense of what I had just seen. There was no sense.
I made my way back to the classroom as both the boy left the room and his parents entered the Church. My father came out of the room as I greeted the parents. I wanted to tell them what my father had done. I wanted to scream at him for doing it. I didn’t.
The boy’s parents accepted my father’s explanation that he was talking to the boy about his pet’s death as the reason for the boy being upset. The boy went along with it. The three of them left me alone with my father. He must have known that I had seen him, as he told me to “remember my loyalty.” I said nothing as he left my side and went to the back room of the Church.
I knelt at the altar and opened my mind to God. I did not pray. I opened my thoughts and waited for God’s instructions. They did not come. I started crying and silently begged for guidance. I thought about my sermon and my lesson. I realized that they contradicted one another. I should be loyal to my father, but my father did not respect God. He couldn’t have if he did not respect that boy. How could I be loyal to someone who didn’t respect God?
Priests were servants of God. We translated His words for others to understand. Even if my father strayed from his purpose, I was still loyal to the priesthood and to my brothers who respected God. If I turned my father in, it would instill distrust for priests in the patrons. People would stop coming to Church and lose faith in the Lord. As far as that boy knew, he was doing what God wanted, and he would not realize what he went through until he was older. I forced myself to believe that.
I never once spoke about what happened, but every day I prayed for forgiveness for keeping it quiet. I lived my life respecting God and staying loyal to the priesthood. I did not become my father, but I filled his position to the best of my ability and I became a bishop. I served my God and my Church as well as I knew how, and I became a very respected member of society.
I was shocked to see the boy in Heaven. He said that God had sent him to me. He killed himself when he was sixteen because of what my father did to him. I was overcome with grief, and I confessed to having witnessed my father’s heinous acts. I begged for forgiveness. The boy hugged me and told me he forgave me. He smiled and walked away.
Dear Missy,
I dreamt about Theresa last night. I woke up in tears with sweat soaking the bed. It all seemed so real. She had just died and she came to visit me. She wanted to tell me one last time that she loved me. I got on my knees and begged her to forgive me for not saving her. Over and over she kept saying she loved me but never that she forgave me.
I don’t know what that means. I forgave myself for not saving her already. Why wouldn’t she forgive me too?
It w
as just a dream. If she wanted to actually come to me I’m sure it wouldn’t be in a dream.
Did Mom ever come to you after she died? I used to see her a lot. She never spoke to me but I would see her when I woke up in the morning, watching me in my bed to make sure I was okay. I never told you that before. I don’t know why.
Anyway, how’s James doing? Has he proposed to you yet? I don’t know what’s taking him so long. He’s clearly mad for you. That man came by again today. I told him you two were getting married just so I would have good news to share. It wasn’t really a lie, you and James will get married some day.
I hope I don’t dream about Theresa again tonight. It hurt too much to wake up without her. I’m going to work on my stories now. My head doesn’t hurt but I don’t want it to start. Please write back soon.
Love,
Ken
Fire, 1
My girlfriend was absolutely amazing. She was sweet, compassionate, funny, and smart. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. We had plans to get married, we knew where we going to live, we knew how many kids we wanted, and we knew how we were going to raise them. I loved her in a way that I had never experienced before. I also, in a way, felt extremely protective of her – more so than a boyfriend