Resurrection

(This is Part II of the Post titled Dark Thoughts)

I watched over my son as he slept. I knew that his sleep had been a restful one, for I could see that the lines of worries in his face were beginning to disappear and were getting slowly replaced by a peaceful smile that played on his lips. I felt happy just watching him.

Yesterday had been particularly tortureous day for him and I had wept secretly on seeing him in so much pain. He didn't see me though, which I thought, was good. Maybe my tears would have weakened him further.

I wondered whether he would notice me today.

Fatherhood is really lot more difficult then most people would have you believe. At the best of times it is a tightrope walk, a delicate balancing act between taking action, advising or just getting out the way. Don't even get me started on what it is like at its worst. One thing is for sure, there are always more questions then there are answers and your children don't make it any easier by putting you on an pedestral and branding you as the arch villain all at the same time.

But then there is nothing else that brings so much joy either, I thought, as I touched my son's head, ever so lightly, I didn't want to wake him up. Not until he had rested. And I waited and I hoped...

I hoped that when he woke up today, he would see that he could choose not to wear his crown of thorns, that he could choose to ignore the cross that he had been carrying around on his bruised shoulders all these days, that the key to unshakling the chains that bound him was in his own hands. I hoped that he would see that all that had pained him so lately were the creation of his own mind that was yet ignorant of its own wondrous depth. I hoped today he would see light and even if he choose not to see me today, I hoped today he would see himself...

He stirred slightly in his sleep and mumbled something. I thought he would get up now, but instead he snuggled back inside the covers with a contented sigh.

I wondered whether he remembered me carrying him back, last night, to his bed after he had convinced himself that I was not going to come and had resigned himself to his despair. That, coming from someone who repeatedly saw through me and ignored my pleas to let go of his cross, was rather ironic I thought. C'est la vie.

He slowly opened his eyes and slowly got up into a sitting position looking confused, as if he didn't know where he was or who his was. He always had a funny face and when confused it looked ever more comical. He looked at his hands, turning it around in front of his eyes, as if expecting a sixth finger to have grown during the night. "Look up," I intoned in my mind, "I have been waiting for quite a while now."

He looked up and cast his glance straight ahead, exactly I where had moved to, in order to catch his eyes. I stood between him and the cross that was propped up on the wall behind me.

"What is it going to be today, My Son," I asked, "are u going to see me today? Or are you going to pick up the cross again?"

I looked directly at his eyes as I waited for him to answer...

I hoped...

And I held out my hand ...

....

Ashoto ma sadgamaya
Tamaso ma jyotirgamaya
Mrityur ma amritangamaya