Submission.
That's what he would remember that day for. Submission to one's fate. The
inescapable fate of being forever invisible to the only man he wished to be
noticed by.
He remembered the power cut, right after the
funeral. His father sitting alone in that dark room, a single candle casting
shadows to his features, distorted to
inhuman proportions. The notes of Mozart, elevating the silence to an almost
mystifying experience.
He remembered himself, a young boy, standing
outside that door, making a promise to himself. He was going to become the son
his father wanted him to be. This was his chance. He was going to be the Son. The Only Son. His
father had no choice but to finally "see" him.
Inside the dark room, his father let out his final breath along with Mozart's
final notes, his heart too weak to handle the pain of the untimely loss.
He
remembered every detail of that day. It was the day his brother had beaten him
again. Even from the grave.
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