When I arrived

When I arrived at the house a woman greeted me at the door then burst into tears. I followed her into the spacious kitchen where all the adult children had gathered.

They were cordial and polite but their faces were strained. We sat and talked for awhile.

A hospice nurse and social worker soon joined us. I asked the family to tell me about their dad and soon the kitchen was full of laugher as stories spilled out. The three of us sat and listened for some time. The family asked if I would talk with their dad. There was something he wanted to get off his chest, something that was holding him back from dying.

Alone with him in the semi darkness, this former soldier was skin and bones, but there was a look of intensity in his eyes. He grabbed my hands and began to talk. There was a look of terror in his eyes.

He had become deaf so he could not hear me so I simply held his hands and gazed kindly in his eyes. After his long confession he said “Thank you Father” although I was not a priest I did not correct him and he sank back into his bed.

After I left he passed away. The family never asked me what dark crimes he may have committed in combat or what acts he may have confessed.

It is probably for the best...... I wasn’t able to hear him.