The Big Picture

Another creative writing piece. This section was taken out of story that was longer. Where the main protagonist struggles with his son who does not believe in the concept of a higher power.

It is a snippet. I hope it makes sense.

Let alone move, it hurt him to even breathe. He was conscious after two days of lying almost dead in the ICU. Recovery was going to be a long road where the destination might be a little short of normal physiological function.

Nurse Crawley walked in. “Good morning Father,” she said. Norah Crawley had a strut to her walk that made it look like she was dancing. A large woman, who could seem intimidating but had a contrasting aura of peace and calm. She was a true healer with a hundred-watt smile and soothing eyes.

“Is it? I haven’t the faintest idea,” groaned Father McMahn as he tried to adjust his back into a comfortable spot.

“I know Physiotherapy can be hard but you are doing extremely well Father,” she said with her characteristic smile.

“Thanks, Norah. I probably shouldn’t say it, though at times I wish the Lord had taken me. This pain is truly hell,” he replied.

Norah helped him adjust the pillows around his back and said, “make no mistake Father, you can only go when it’s your time.”

“Hear, hear,” he said as he leaned back into his nest of pillows with a visible look of relief on his face.

Father McMahn looked quite healthy to Nurse Crawley, given the situation. He had been shot three times by a semi-automatic pistol, less than a week ago. Once in his back, once in his right thigh and a third in his left hip. When he was brought into the hospital, soaking in his blood, his chances of survival looked next to impossible.

She heard a soft snore. Norah turned around from the heart monitor, she saw him fast asleep. He looked handsome in a worn-out sort of way. With his salt and pepper hair and rugged features, Father Greg McMahn was in his mid-sixties but his attitude and demeanour were of a person much younger. It would have to be, thought Norah, thinking of the number of people he dealt with. She left the room, allowing him to rest and got on with the rest of her morning patient rounds.

Later that morning, at the Nurse’s station, Norah saw the morning paper. The shoot-out at the Anglican Church was still making headlines even though it happened five days ago. She had read something about it every day since.

The shooting was by a long-time member of the church. The assailant knew the Father since he was a child. A person with psychiatric issues. He had recently lost his mother to cancer and felt the church, more specifically, Father McMahn did not do his bit to prevent her death.

When he came into the church brandishing a pistol, there were others there. There was choir practice happening as well. Father approached him and was trying to talk to the assailant, but just then a lady in the choir spotted the pistol and started to shriek in panic. Instinctively Father turned, just for a moment, to comfort her. The assailant shot and shot repeatedly before he broke down himself and lost consciousness.

Norah was lost in her thoughts about the insanity of human behaviour when she saw Benjamin coming in. To look at, he was an absolute copy of his father. He was the updated version of the same rugged features, but something was morphed. It was hard to say what, maybe it was his perpetual wrinkled forehead or just his expression. All in all, it gave him a more agitated look.

“How is he doing?” asked Benjamin.

Norah smiled. “He’s a rockstar, given the situation,” she said.

Benjamin had not left his father’s side since the incident. The sleepless nights and the dark circles around his eyes were evident.

“You know, Norah, he was always like this,” Ben said.

Coming around from behind the counter, she said, “It’s hard to believe a man of his age could be so agile and brave.” They started to walk towards his room

“Stupidly brave Norah. It worries me. Everything that happens cannot be the Lord’s plan. At some point, you need to be smart about these things.” They enter the room and he is still sleeping. “Where was his Lord when this was happening? Dad needs to take responsibility for the risk he puts himself in.”

Father McMahn started to stir and opened his eyes. He saw Norah and Benjamin. Norah looked at him and asked, “Did you see the paper yet Father? You are still a celebrity, making the front page of the Chronicle.”

“Do you feel special working with a celebrity Norah?” Father teased.

She started to check his stats. “I think the real question is, do you feel like a celebrity?” They both ended up smiling, scared to laugh as that hurt too much.

He looked at Benjamin and said, “You know where the Lord was when this happened to me? Do you know why he put me here, without even hesitating?”

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