One golgotha evening

This happened when I was twelve. I was there and I saw it with my own eyes. With these two eyes in my own head. I know what happened. There?s no talking me out of this.I have kept my silence since, all the way to this day. I have kept my silence all these days in order not to shame my parents, for I ask you: Who on earth would have believed me? And for that matter, who will believe me now? My parents would surely have thought me deranged beyond repair and I would have shamed them greatly had I spoken before now. Imagine: to have a delusional son, how shameful. Seeing things.You too will think me delusional and deranged, I am sure, but what I say is true. I was there. I saw it happen. With my own eyes. These two.I disobeyed my father. Three times. That is what silenced me at first.He told me to stay inside that day, in the house, do not to go anywhere, he said, not even for bread or milk or well water. He felt trouble coming, he said. Nothing for children?s eyes. He was a stern man, my father. He did not take kindly to disobedience, of any sort, no matter what the reason. He would not have forgiven mine.Yes, I remember clearly him telling me that he felt trouble coming and him telling me to stay inside and not to go out. It was not a suggestion. It was a decree. It was an order not to be ignored or contravened. That is what commanded my initial silence. For how could I have told him that I was there and that I saw it with my own eyes when he had told me, specifically, and more than once, to stay inside that day, and to not leave the house, not even for water? To not set foot outside, for any reason.But now they are gone, both mother and, now, father. Aaron, too. A few years back. Now there is no one left to shame. Father this Friday last and I am recently back from laying him to rest. Mother left us almost seven years ago now, in spring. I have no brothers and I have no sisters. There is no one left to shame.Now that there is only me to shame, I need to tell. For shame means nothing to me now, it is dwarfed by the burden of seeing and not telling.:He was a short man. I remember thinking he must not be fully grown for he was not much taller than I was, and I was of a height normal for my age; well, perhaps I was just a little taller than normal but not that tall. But he wore a full beard and I remember wondering how could a boy have such a beard before I realized that he was a man. A boy with a beard, that?s what I thought at first. A bearded boy. How strange! Then I saw that he was a short man and not a boy at all.Mother had left for the country that very morning. The early sky had promised heat and she took not well to our dusty sun. She and Naomi, her cousin, they both left shortly after breakfast, mother saying it would be a very hot day. Even though I did not hear him do so, I now think it likely that Father had commanded her to go. Yes, that is very likely.Father left shortly thereafter for the guards. But not before he told me to stay inside (three times, proving with his hands how serious he was) and he told Aaron, my uncle who lived with us then, to make sure I stayed inside the house and that he would be wise to do so, too (told him at least twice, that I heard). There could be trouble, he said. I remember it clearly, him telling Aaron there could be trouble that day. Father knew these things for he was an officer of the guards and I remember very clearly him telling Aaron that day that he thought there would be trouble.