Loss of Faith

First a little of my background...

I was born to parents of German and Irish stock, by right of my father, Irish Catholic faith. Even today, after so many years, I can still hear the Latin of the church of my youth.

This is a tale of losing my faith on my journey. As I sit sipping my cup of tea allow me to guide you.

As a youth, being an altar boy, those were the good years. My journey was hand-picked for me from the age of 7: become a priest, policeman or military.

By the age of 13, priest was not an option. (Thank you Sabrina for opening my world.) Nor was I ever one to be a policeman, leaving military as my only option for this young man.

I have written about my military time, being lost on my journey, begging Him for guidance, my heart open needing His love. Were we not taught his Son died for our sins? To wake in a ward with screaming men...why, Father, did you turn away from me? Could you not let me die with my friends? Why, Father?

As my life turned to living, my thoughts were never too far from being cast out from Him.

Love and living in the seventies, meeting my love at a burger joint — my best friend said after the first night, "You will marry that girl" — could he have forgiven me, had my Father returned to me?

The years sped by, 5... 10... 25... years growing old together. I had long since given up on being blessed with children. Was this my payment?

Going to His house on Sundays, our life at peace and calm.

One early morning my love had a cough, then another. One week turns to three... time for her doctor. The call within 45 minutes, please come in we need to discuss...

Three words: Stage Four Cancer. Our horrors begin.

For me the old question returns. Why, Father?

I walked away as He turned his back on me once more, buried my love and have not crossed the door of His house since.

Sipping my tea now five years later, in a house on a quiet street empty of love.

My journey continues.