Page 52 of For I Have Sinned

I stay in the car the whole time, not wanting to leave my dad’s side. The paramedics are careful when they remove his body from the car and put him on the stretcher.

When he is finally out, I let them help me. Due to the way the car rolled, the passenger-side car door was stuck and wouldn’t open. I guess it’s a good thing we had the windows down, because I ended up climbing out through the opening.

The paramedics assess my injuries as my dad lies in the back of the ambulance. They try asking me questions, and I think I answer them. My mouth moves, saying something, but there is a loud roar in my ears as the shock takes over my body. I stare straight ahead as they tell me that, besides the cuts on my hands, I have a nasty cut on my head and probably a few bruised ribs. I nod blindly at their words that I barely hear.

As I sit in the back of the ambulance with my father’s lifeless body, I dig my phone out of my pocket. The screen is cracked a little, but it still works, so I call my mom.

“Hi, honey. How was the movie?” she asks in a sleepy voice.

“Mom,” I fight back the tears. “There’s been an accident.”

“What?” The panic in her voice is immediate, wiping away any exhaustion. “Are you and your father okay?”

I can’t tell her over the phone. “We are on the way to city hospital.”

“I’m on my way.”

Moments after we arrive, they take my dad away from me, and my mom runs into the hospital. She looks around frantically, and her eyes meet my red ones.

Her tears immediately start, and she rushes toward me, and I shake my head. She drops her purse to the floor, and her hands cover her mouth as she cries out. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as we both sink to the floor in the waiting room and fall apart.

I lift my hand, wiping away a tear that escaped, and swallow past the lump in my throat.

“They said that when the other car hit us, he had a heart attack. There was nothing they could do to save him.”

“I am so sorry, Alex.” She uses my name, just my name, and it feels nice to hear in this vulnerable moment. “Losing a parent is never easy.”

“It is not.” I sit forward again, dragging my laptop toward me.

I have to look away from Celine’s gaze. Her eyes are full of pity, and I can’t handle the sensation that she cares about me. Thankfully, there is a soft knock at the door, and when I lift my eyes, Sister Alice is standing there with a smile.

Celine looks over her shoulder, and Sister Alice tells her that her mother is here. She turns back around in her chair with an annoyed expression and lets out a long sigh.

Her eyes meet mine again, and she asks, “Is it bad that I was hoping she wouldn’t show?”

“Not at all.” That makes her smile a bit.

Her hands meet the arms of the chair, and she pushes herself up. Celine heads for the door but stops and turns to me. “I’ll see you for our prayer tonight.”

“I’ll see you,” I reassure her before she leaves.

Once I am alone again, I sit with the memory of my dad. After his passing, I lashed out. I ignored those friends who had always been there for me and fell into another group of friends who were bad for me—drugs, partying, and stealing. I even stopped showing up to work.

For too long, I acted like a piece of shit. And worst of all, I was an ass to my mom. She lost her husband. She was grieving, too, and I wasn’t there for her. The guilt eats me alive to this day.

It wasn’t until the two-year anniversary of my dad’s death that I realized I couldn’t keep living my life the way I was. I wasn’t only hurting myself, I was hurting the people I love. I’m not sure why that year was especially tough for me, but I couldn’t stop crying; I was mentally lost

I walked the streets at night and stumbled upon a church. I wasn’t sure if I could go in, but I did anyway. It was empty, no one in sight. I went into the chapel, up to the altar, and dropped to my knees.

My hands met the floor, and I sobbed. Sounds from deep within my chest flew out of me as I let it all out, asking God why he took my best friend from me. I was so in my head that I didn’t hear someone join me.

That was the day I met Father Hobbs. He knelt with me, placing a hand on my shoulder, and began to pray. His words resonated with me. They seeped into my skin and wrapped their warmth around me, providing me a sort of safety that I haven’t felt in a while. He offered to help me overcome my grief and guilt. Guilt over being mean to my mother, as well as the guilt I felt over my father’s death.

Back then, I felt it was my fault since we had to see a movie later because of my work schedule. If we had been able to see it earlier, then the drunk driver wouldn’t have hit us.

Now, I know there was nothing I could have done to save him. Maybe if the shock of being struck by another car hadn’t given him a heart attack, I could have done something, but the way it happened was out of my control.

After that day in the church, I continued to visit Father Hobbs, and he eventually suggested that I consider joining the priesthood. I jumped on the opportunity because I believed that it would help turn my life around.