My father was bed-ridden for several months of the sickness which I didn’t know personally. My mother didn’t tell why my father was sick though we’re living roof. I was actually supporting my aged parents. They were in their senior citizen status.
Every day I worked in the Church as a custodian. I seldom went home. I stayed in the Church for I have also to watch it as a night guard. Our house wasn’t far from the Church meetinghouse. From time to time, I also went home, attended to the needs of my parents, of my kids, and of course, of my wife.
One day, I was able to talk to my father who on his bed in one of the rooms in the house. I could see from his eyes that nothing had really bothered him. He was still wearing a good smile. In our conversation, he asked me on how is our small city, the on-going government project of concreting the high road in San Enrique, one of the towns in Negros Occidental, Philippines. I sensed from him that he was too excited to know those progress in our city and in the other municipalities. That was the last conversation we had had.
A day or so had passed. I remember it was mid in the morning while I was polishing the floor of the hall in the meetinghouse when a Spirit has prompted me to pray. I gently knelt down and said a prayer that I really pitied my sick father for the pain he had borne. I requested to the Lord if it is His will why not let my father take his rest. As I prayed, several tears kept on falling on my cheeks.
The following day, I overheard somebody knocking at the meetinghouse door, calling my name. As I opened the door, I saw my second elder daughter with tears in her eyes, telling me that her grandfather was gone. I embraced her, then went inside the room for a moment, kneeling thanking the Lord for his mercy. And I went home with my daughter.
Am I responsible for the death of my father?