"The Curse" by Andre Dubus

In 2001 my four year old son was murdered by my wife's ex-husband.  Though this is not an easy story to tell it is one I have told many times.  For weeks after our son's death my wife and I didn't speak to each other; not one word.  Looking back at those moments I still wonder who was the one who wasn't speaking to the other.  Despite the passing of a decade and hours of prayer and theropy I still believe his death was my fault.  If I had only been a stronger husband and father.  If I had only locked the door.  If I had only been able to over power this monster when he came into our house.  It is a curse I shall live with for the rest of my life.

I was 14 years old when my father died.  He was recovering from testicular cancer in the hospital.  My father was a horrible man.  He abused my sister and I in ways I still am unable to communicate.  Still, he was my father and I loved him.  From his hospital bed with my sister, mother and I surrounding him he prayed for God's forgiveness and asked the same of us.  My mother and sister tearfully accepted his apology and his strive for a new life.  I was speechless and did not say anything.  "I'm sorry," were words I never heard from this man.  They were words, he taught me, that a man should never say.  That night we got a phone call from his doctor.  My father had fallen when trying to get out of bed and died.  While his last words to me were words of forgiveness, the lack of my words were a clear sign of hatred.  If I had only been able to say something.  If I had only been a better son.  If I had only had the strength of my mother and sister.  It is a curse I shall live with for the rest of my life.