I love my father. Therefore, I want him to die.
I love my father with all my heart, in spite of the things he's done, the many mistakes he's made. I love him because he's my father. To me, blood runs thicker than anything else.
But he's gotten himself into certain tragic situations from which I seem unable to rescue him. Rather than live my life worrying about how much he is suffering, I wish that God would mercifully free him from his mortal shackles and welcome him into eternal peace, comfort and forgiveness. I am the only one to whom he means anything; it would be me who would have the most reasons to mourn his departure from this world.
I won't kill him. Neither will I encourage others to, nor even urge him to take his own life, though that much I've contemplated. All I can do is pray that God somehow arranges his end, or else miraculously lifts him up from his miserable existence by healing his broken life.
His pathetic plight weighs heavily upon my heart. I want him dead so that it won't hurt anymore. Because when he hurts, I hurt.