Goodbye, Father

It’s a party for a departing priest … a man who has done you a lot of good. He’s leaving on the Bishop’s order and you want to pay him honor.

You get a glass of wine.

There aren’t very many friends of yours here. You sidle up to a friend/acquaintance. He’s been staying home. He asks you about your work. So you say a lot of words that could’ve been abbreviated to “It’s a shit show, Bob, if you must know.”

You’ve known Bob fifteen years. “What do you Bob?” Then he says a bunch of words.

He compliments your beard. “Looks good.”

“Thanks, it does look good,” you say dead straight. He’s puzzled for a moment… he doesn’t know you that well and doesn’t immediately get that you’re joking. “It looks good, but it is a polarizing subject,“ you go on.

“Scratchy on the face,” says Bob’s wife to yours.

“Well that’s kind of a hypothetical problem isn’t it?” you say. Rim shot. Bob laughs.

“I like the way it looks,” says your wife on the defense. You let the subject drop. It’s a sore subject. Bitter. Better left ignored on the scrap-heap of a joke.

Now here is Father. He looks tired. He’s going to a smaller parish…won’t be the boss anymore… he looks sad and relieved.

“You’re a gifted speaker.” You mean this. ‘Practice self-denial,’ he once told you.

“You’ve worked very hard here for fourteen years.” Father has just beaten cancer … for now.

“Thank you.”

You’re starting to feel like you’re at a funeral. You finish your wine. You let go… “This is a difficult place to be a priest … or clergy for any church around here… it’s a town of experts… everyone here knows what you should be doing … better than you … better than me … for me they’re probably right … but it’s a difficult place to be anyone…. am I right?” Bit of risk on this tact… then he laughs. Mission accomplished.

“Could be worse…” says Father. That’s all he’s good for.

You let him go. “True. True.”

He’s pulled away to other well-wishers.

“Can you see the real me?                                                 Preacher?!  Preacher?!!”

Good bye Father.

*****
Across the room there is Bill White. He’s always been so nice to you. He greets you warmly … calls you Judge … “You look good Judge, you been running?” You talk running a bit…”I’m 78,” he says… he complains that his knees hurt.

“But you can golf.”

“I can golf.”

“Bill, you look great… you look 60.” He really does younger than his age.

“Well a 19 year old daughter will do that for you.”

You signed the adoption decree a decade ago. “She’s a 4.0 student at University of Dayton,” says Bill … “strong-willed” he says.

Stephanie is Bill’s daughter… and also his granddaughter… after a two year family court war he hated waging against his own baby.

Your wife rejoins your side, “Bill, this is my wife… This is Bill White … he’s 78 … but looks sixty onaccounta chasing after his 19 year daughter.”

“Judge, when I came to your courtroom, I looked up and….” He can’t speak. You see his tears. “I looked up and saw angels.”

“Bill, I hear them sometimes too.”

“I remember … you said … you said, ‘Do you want to do this?’ and I said yes… YES! … and I was thinking oh please yes … please… and you said ‘It’s done.’”

He’s full-on crying now.

Then… it was never in doubt. But you did not appreciate how he suffered. You did not appreciate how he hurt.

Now is a new moment. One that will never come again… the tears are behind your eyes and that’s where they’ll stay … you fix the older gentleman eye to eye… “Bill, you did it. You did everything before and everything since. You’re the reason it happened. You’re the reason for her success … and her too, because she’s awesome. You’re the reason it got done. You and the angels… because what am I gonna do with a bunch of angels staring bullets through me, Bill?” He laughs into his tears. “I’m signing off on that thing! Last thing I need, Bill, is a bunch of angels pissed off at me.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I thank you… just quit lying about being 78!”

He’s not crying anymore.

“We should go. Have a pleasant evening.”

*****

As you drive home, you remember that adoption that day. A storm came through. The siren sounded and everyone had to go into the basement of the courthouse until it was over. Then back into the courtroom … and the angels the storm kept waiting.