Testimony of faith. The price of words
“Become a journalist…To end up in the crushed dogs section!” » When, as a teenager, I told my father, a principled and silent man, of my desire to become a journalist, his response was a hit. I put my passion for current affairs, social events, geopolitics and religion under wraps, to become a sales representative in my father’s company a few years later. Was I going to take her back, me, the only son? My marriage, at 21, did not please him. My wife, understanding the difficulty of this father-son relationship, encouraged me not to take over from him.
Away from Catholic practice as a teenager, I returned around my thirties to a faith committed to Protestantism. It was Dad, an honest believer, who passed on Christian values to me. He was scathing: “You, obviously, the straw man*…” When, after a divorce, I remarried, he pointed out to me, in front of my future wife, that I would do well to be careful, because the previous marriage was It ended badly.
As a child, I did not suffer from Dad’s temper. But a silence worthy of that described by Vercors in The silence of the sea has settled between us. We saw each other a lot though. His grandchildren filled him with pride and adored him. But at home, he spoke to the other people present, and I was unable to speak to him.
The years have passed. And then, a few days before Christmas 2019, he suffered a stroke. He no longer got up, no longer recognized my wife, forgot the first names of his grandchildren. My questions, open-ended, so that he could express himself, were wasted effort. In March, I had a feeling that Dad would leave us. While I never ask the Lord for anything for myself, I prayed to Him to give me the strength to break the ice before it was too late. One Sunday afternoon, during a family visit, I took advantage of the moment of departure to return to his room, alone. I took his hand. Leaning over him, I kissed him, and whispered in his ear: “I love you, Dad. » A few days later, he passed away, without us seeing each other again. It was up to me, the son, to perform this act of reconciliation. I thank God for that. Today, I cultivate warm relationships with my children. I know the price.
* Derogatory term to designate a Protestant.
