Homeless Heart

"Phineas, is that you?" His typically commanding voice was gone, replaced with a raspy whisper. He held up his bony hand to touch me, so I let go of Lizzie for the first time today and moved in to take his hand.

"Yes, Father, it's me." I felt awkward comforting him; we never touched in the past other than when he was hitting me. I watch him lying there, unsure of myself or what I should say to him. The disease had indeed ravaged his body.

"Father, this is Elizabeth, she's my fiancée. We are getting married soon." She wasn't my fiancée yet, but he didn't need to know that right now. I gestured for her to come so I could hold her hand again. Lizzie walked closer to my side and smiled at my father, I was unsure what to say.

"Elizabeth works for the children's charity you and mother support. I believe you've met." I watched as recognition washed across my father's face.

"Yes, I do remember Elizabeth. She was always a pleasure to work with, full of wonderful ideas and always a hard worker." He coughed several times, and my mother gave him some water.

"Yes, she's very good at her job. I've worked for her, so I know she's a real taskmaster." Before she could object, I smiled and winked at her.

"Mr. Dunbar, it was always great to work with both you and your wife. Your contributions were so generous and helped so many young people."

She smiled and winked back at me, and that gave me the strength to continue this inevitable conversation. Taking a deep breath and finding my resolve. I brought up the elephant in the room.

"Father, I'm sorry you're so ill." He finally looked away from me and let go of my hand.

"I know, Phin, let me . . ."

I interrupted him, needing to get this off my chest. "I'm seeing a therapist, and he's helping me sort through my feelings about the abuse and my relationship with you. Father, I might be able to forgive you one day, but I can't make any promises. Right now, I am just here to listen to what you have to say to me and then maybe we can figure out if I can help you. Can you do that for me?" I stood there for what seemed like ages but was probably only a few seconds. He finally looked back over at me, and I saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight of this once hard man, the man who beat me and abused me most of my life, weak and broken, made me realize that I needed to begin to forgive him.

"Son, I would desperately like for you to try to forgive me, but I know I don't deserve it. Death might be a better punishment for me. I am not sure where to start." My mother leaned over and wiped his cheeks with a tissue. She'd obviously seen my father cry a lot lately, as she didn't seem shocked at all by this behavior. She pulled up a chair and gestured for me to sit down.

"Elizabeth, how about we go downstairs and get a coffee while these two catch up."

Lizzie looked at me, wanting permission for her to leave me. "Go on, Lizzie. I'll meet you downstairs later."

At that very moment, the clock chimed loud one time indicating the hour. My father and I looked at each other, knowing that the sound was the mark of our traumatic past with a possible new beginning.