“And then …” She hesitated. “… there’s Vincent.” She hesitated again. “My priest son.” She smiled. “When he was little I’d take him to Mass with us. He took to it like a duck to water. I started way back then to pray for him. He seemed a natural to become a priest. But I didn’t want to push him. And I don’t think I did; he did it all on his own. I want him to be such a good priest …”
She seemed to be making an effort to speak strongly. “And so I’m offering my little illness for the kids.”
“That’s beautiful, Louise. But if they knew what you were doing I’m sure they’d object. They don’t want you to suffer. I can’t think that God wants you to suffer.”
She smiled weakly and patted Koesler’s arm. “Honest, when it gets unbearable, I take one. I’ve already taken a couple. Besides, the doctor explained some of the side effects that can happen when you take very much. I’m better off without it.
“But you promised,” she said insistently. “I don’t want the kids to know. You’re probably right: They’d be upset. So, you won’t tell anybody?”
Koesler shook his head. “No, I won’t. But how about Lucy? Doesn’t she give you your medication and vitamins?”
“No. I’m determined to take care of myself for as long as I can, for as much as I can-”
“Din … ner …” Lucy called from downstairs.
Louise swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly raised herself erect, motioning off Koesler’s proffer of assistance.
“Can I help you downstairs?” he asked.
“No … thank you. Just be patient, please; I go kind of slow.”
She did indeed. But Koesler stayed a step ahead of her just in case she were to fall.
The aroma of spaghetti and meatballs permeated the downstairs, tantalizing to all but Louise. After Koesler had led them in grace she forced herself to eat small portions and then to linger at table for longer than she really wished. Lucy, Vincent, and Koesler exchanged concerned looks as Lucy removed her mother’s still nearly full plate after everyone else was finished.
“Dessert, Mother?”
Louise accepted a small portion of Jell-O and listlessly downed it. Then, explaining that she was very tired, she rose and, accompanied by Vincent, made her way up the stairs.
She stretched out atop the quilt, telling Vincent she just wanted to rest for a little bit before getting ready for bedtime; would he stay with her?
Of course.
She stroked his cheek where a bit of stubble showed. He had been clean-shaven early in the morning. It was getting late in the day and in a little while he would have to return to St. John’s.
“Baby …”
“I’m twenty-four years old. In a couple of months I’ll be a priest. And still she calls me ‘Baby.’”
But he didn’t really mind. Their love for each other was a mother-son epitome.
“Baby,” she repeated, “are you all ready?”
“Ready? For what?”
“To get ordained.”
He smiled. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I mean, this has been really tough on you-me being sick and all. Don’t tell me it hasn’t been a distraction.”
“You didn’t choose to get sick now, Ma. We have to roll with the punches.” He smiled encouragingly. “But we can do it.”
“How are your studies going?”
“What’s this all about, Ma? Why are you so concerned about how I’m doing and my studies?”
“It’s funny: I’ll never be able to make anyone understand. But … I can feel your prayers. They seem to take away a lot of the pain.”
“No kidding! You feel my prayers?” His eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s not just mine. There are lots of people praying for you, you know.”
“If it was anybody else, I could tell. That’s why no one will believe me. I know it’s
Vincent smiled broadly. “Don’t be concerned about my schoolwork …” He nodded assuringly. “That’s in the bag.”
“Sure?”
“Sure!” he emphasized.
She ran her fingers through his hair. He simply leaned closer to make the gesture easier.
“Baby, I’ve got one last request for you-”
“What’s this ‘last’ business?”
“Humor me. Someday very soon you’re going to be at God’s holy altar. You’re going to offer the holy sacrifice of the Mass. What I ask you is for you always to have me in your heart. Let me be part of every Mass you offer …” She fixed him with her gaze. “Promise me.”
Vincent choked back a sob. “Don’t talk like this, Ma. Of course you’re going to be in my Masses. But you’re going to be in the prayers for the living. And you can check me out. You can remind me from time to time. But you won’t really need to check: I’ll remember.
“Which reminds me: What dress are you going to wear to my ordination? And whichever one you choose, are you going to wear the same one for my first Mass the next day?”
She laughed softly. “Baby, I’ve lost so much weight, I’ll have to buy a new one. And as long as it’s new, I think I’ll probably wear it for the first Mass too.”
“Sounds good, Ma. In another week you’re going to wonder what it was like to be sick.”
Her smile was like a sunburst. “I can hardly wait, baby.” She lay back and licked her lips.
“Can I get you some water, Ma?”
“No … no, I’ll be fine. But I think I need to get some sleep. This has been a busy day.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then his thumb traced the sign of the cross on her brow. She smiled and closed her eyes.
He pulled a comforter over her still form, waited till her breath was deep and even, then tiptoed out of the room and went quietly down the stairs.
He stepped into the kitchen where Lucy was finishing up the dishes. Koesler, after drying the last pot, folded the towel and draped it on its hook. “Maybe I ought to go up and say good-bye.”
“She’s sleeping.”
Koesler nodded. “In that case, I’ll just leave. I should at least drop in at home and visit with my folks for a while.”
“Tony said he’ll definitely be home for Easter,” Lucy said, apropos of the word “home.”
“Good,” Vincent said. “There ought to be a doubting Thomas around at any miracle.”
“If custom prevails-and there’s no reason it won’t,” Koesler said, “this will be the busiest week of the year for parish priests. But I’ll be here-definitely-right after St. Norbert’s last Easter Mass.”
“And I,” Vincent added, “will be home as soon as the Easter vigil is finished next Saturday morning. And then,” he added further, “I’ll be home for a full week. To gloat.” His chin was firm.
Koesler donned coat and hat. It was late March-spring, which in Michigan could mean bundle-up weather well into April or even May.
After making his good-byes, Koesler, still in the flush of youth, fairly skipped down the steps to his car.
As he drove toward his familial home in southwest Detroit, he played back the memory of today’s visit with the Delvecchios.
His experience with the terminally ill was quite limited compared with what it would be when he’d had many pastoral years behind him. He could envision Louise lasting a few more weeks, even a month or two. On the other hand, she could be gone before this week was over; it all depended on the relentless advance of the cancer against her will to live. She did
Koesler felt it was not in the cards that she would see even the beginning of any sports career Tony might
