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 sha