The Human Condition, Indifference, and Evil

It's three or four o'clock in the morning and I am unable to sleep. I am in my father's home. My home, also, until I married. I feel engulfed by a void, a sense of emptiness, even though I abhor indifference. I'm not frightened; I'm numb. I can honestly say I am not anxious about myself. My despair, pain, and sorrow are directed toward my father. Also, toward my mother who died five years' earlier. What would she think?

I sense - not for the first time -the total indifference of the universe. I'm in "No Man's Land". I'm not ambiguous about my love for my father, who I know is lying awake in the next bedroom. Has he become another victim of indifference? Are we both looking into the same abyss? I love and care for my father. I know it is reciprocated -without words; it is.

From where I lie - in my old bedroom - through the darkness, I see the dim colour of the walls, the white of the ceiling, the flowery curtains. A world of fragrances and faint sounds: mainly ticking and chiming clocks, enter my senses. Random memories appear. I want to see my mother's face, so I get up quietly, and fetch a photograph from a sideboard downstairs in the living room. While the black and white photograph captures her in a stubborn mood, she is undeniably beautiful. The photograph seems to radiate her strength of will, intelligence, and humour, which, thankfully, she never lost.

This morning, my father's home, my late mother's home, my former home, my siblings' former home, represents a house of clay - Why? Trust and love make us all susceptible to hurt. My father, no longer feels safe and comfortable in his own home. Is it any wonder the church buildings in the area remain locked when not open for Sunday worship? In fact, the buildings resemble security-leaden fortresses, not places of worship.

As my father -who is eighty-five years old - and I eat breakfast, the trauma of yesterday's events are clearly etched on his pale face, his speech scarcely audible. We talk, and ask each other questions, to which there are no answers. Why? Who? When? My father is fearful they will return. Again, I try to allay his fears, though I, or no-one else, can guarantee it.

The perpetrators’ used a 'jemmy' (a small crow bar) to break the wood surrounding the side door of my father’s home to gain entry. My father and I had been out for something to eat, and to visit the local library. It happened between two and four on a sunny afternoon last week. Incredibly, no-one seen it happen. Each room, cupboard, cabinet, drawer, armchair, seat, had been overturned and ransacked. The thieves took cash, and other sentimental items. It is impossible to describe the scene. My late mother's clothes, and personal items, jewellery, did not escape their onslaught. So you will understand my family's predicament. Crime, while constantly in the spotlight, is one area of human endeavour where the perpetrators' largely go unpunished, or atone for their deeds.

We took photographs of the scenes of destruction and tried to settle our father, while upset ourselves. The police came and took a hazy statement from my father. Next, the forensic team. The police officers' didn't voice hope of catching the perpetrators', and had no information regarding the level of burglary in the area; priority, or possible, offenders; those known to handle stolen goods ... I could go on. Would it serve a purpose? No. I shiver with despair. I'm sure the burglars carried out some kind of reconnaissance prior to breaking into my father's home. Perhaps they called at the house? An elderly person living alone is an easy target.

Reflections: Throughout the world jails are full of people who feel no guilt for their crimes. You and I, hopefully, consider that delusional. In fact, some perpetrators relish their life of crime, and live with impunity. They sleep sound at night because they see no higher power than themselves. At the same time they have a great ability to lie to themselves, ignorant of their own faults, while they commit attacks of violence, and target vulnerable people.

What is evil? I can't answer that. All I know is that actions which are, by their consequences and nature destructive of life, are carried out by individuals who find it easy to blame others for their behaviour. They live in denial, and with little though for the well being of others'. I'm just thankful we are not all cut from the same cloth.