The boy last night. It was based on father's advice. I had to, he said someday I would understand, and then I would appreciate and love him for it. He said it was necessary for my growth process, a ritual that signals the birth of a new Era, a new phase - "a pathway to a new beginning" as he puts it.
Mum wouldn't want it, she wouldn't agree to such a decision, there was so much heaviness in her face when I finally agreed to do it. She's a mother afterall, or maybe it was because she feared more, of what would happen next, that if things went wrong the future would be bleaker and the days darker. She wouldn't see the necessity of the action not when there was an easy way out. The uncertainty that came with such decisions was something we all feared. I also needed. I also needed a soft landing - someone that would give me a cozy hug and commend my cowardice. I had just one shot to shoot, hit or miss my whole life changes forever, consulting my closest grey hair was the best decision I had taken since all of this started.
And so I had run to father that night with a heavy and confused heart to seek fatherly counsel, for a heart
-heart talk between the son and his father, hoping to
get clarity, support, and just anything that would
bring me out of my Nile of misery and fear.
I sat on the chair facing his bed and emptied my mind before this fairly ancient being, who looked back with an astonishingly stern calmness as he listened ardently to every word I said.
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