Visitations

A number of years ago, after my mother had died, I found myself questioning her relationship with the faith in which she was raised and raised my sister and me.  My mother was always quiet, complex, and guarded -- almost secretive. 

At the time she died, I was not yet a priest, yet my newly-recovered faith and theological studies caused my to have some concern about my mother's spiritual destiny; concerns I had yet to raise even with Sabine.

Then one night, some months after she had died, I suddenly was awaken by a real presence of my mother in my roon standing at the end of my bed and her voice saying, "It's okay, David." I suddenly woke up and felt great peace and a strengthening of my belief in the after-life.

Now, another grief, some three decades later.  This time it was an unexpected death -- my son, Matthew's suicide. Five months had passed since that tragic day.  Five long months, hundreds of family conversations, and at least a gallon or more of tears along with self-incrimination, guilt, sense of loss and overwhelming sadness.

Then it came.  Another night time "visitation" surprisingly similar.  Another dream. This time my son, who died in his early forties, appeared as a young boy, perhaps ten years of age.  He is wearing a striped t-shirt and shorts.  He stands in front of me, happy and peaceful; a smile on his face. He says to me, "it's okay, Dad, I know you love me!"  I am suddenly awake, tears streaming down my face. Yes, it is okay.  There is much more in both life and death than we can ever see.