"The death of my wife plagues me," he rubbed his eyes again, "I want to know if it is okay to forgive myself," he sat back and exhaled heavily, "I don't know what I expected here," he admitted, "Maybe the other woman has nothing to do with it, maybe she shouldn't have anything to do with it, maybe I should just ask to be able to forgive myself for me," He looked at the man beside him, "I want to forgive myself, I want to stop torturing myself and grieving for my wife,"
There, he'd said it. It wasn't going to forsake all worldly pleasures and accept god into his heart in the purest form, it was too late for that. If he was going to do that he would need to give up his tribe and he wasn't going to do that, he wasn't going to neglect his home. Maybe God wasn't the path, maybe the power rested solely in himself.
"Maybe God cannot grant me this because I cannot dedicate myself in the way that you have," he gestured weakly to Priest.