Dads: A gay couple's surrogacy journey in India (38 page)

Raphael had fought with this question for years, having fierce arguments with his own parents, who had forced him to attend religious services despite his teenage rebellion. He had argued with priests and ministers, some sympathetic, others just plain dismissive over Raphael’s repetitive and only question. Do you have any proof?

There is no need for proof when it comes to faith—their standard reply.
Yet we demand proof from science. We don’t accept scientific facts based on faith. Why should religion be any different?
He was reported to the principal, reprimanded, and punished. Yet Raphael never relented, never gave up, and eventually convinced himself that the only reason humanity needed religion was to excerpt power over the masses. He, Raphael, would not give in, would not submit himself to this folly. He reminded himself of the old saying that only dead fish follow the stream, and he was most definitively alive.

Sure, he had considered the possibility of death, for himself, and he had long ago accepted the concept of a full stop after his last breath. Theoretically. Because, after all, with him gone, who’d give a shit? He’d be dead and would no longer need to worry about an afterlife. If, by any chance, he would have been wrong, it would simply be a pleasant surprise. But never in his wildest dream had he considered this conversation, this question from his own child, his only son.

All of a sudden, Raphael wished he had faith.

“Son,” he said. “You know what I believe. But I have no more proof than those who believe something else. I can’t swear that this is it, as likely as it may be. Who knows? You might close your eyes here and wake up somewhere else, as another baby or an animal as the Hindus and Buddhists believe, or you might wake up at the gates of paradise, the way Muslims or Christians believe. Remember the book we read, about
The Brothers Lionheart
by Astrid Lindgren? Maybe you’ll end up in Nangijala.”

“That would be nice, but I’d rather go straight to Nangilima, and be with Jonatan and Karl.”

“Well then, why don’t we say so? Just picture the light, and you’ll see the brothers Lionheart waiting for you on the other side.” Raphael was barely able to contain his emotions now. He wished for nothing else but to promise Jason that everything would be okay, that there was an afterlife, that they would meet again at some point. This was the first time that Raphael met the ultimate consequence of his personal beliefs, and this very minute it was killing him.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie to his son, to betray the very core of his being. If he’d taught the boy anything in the past thirteen years, it was honesty and to be true to yourself.

“Dad?” Jason whispered, gently squeezing his hand.

“What is it, son?”

“I love you.” With those words, he let go of Raphael.

“I love you, too, Jason. I love you so much.” Raphael squeezed his hand, but there was no resistance. Jason was gone.

cont...

The Opera House

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