Bless Me Father

My niece finally responded to my email. I had tried to call her and didn't leave a message on her answering machine. I emailed and waited and to my surprise, I received a response. She assured me that she does read her emails but is lousy in responding. She sounded exactly like her father, my brother. I would email my brother, Jack, and never received a response from him. I knew that he read the emails but never bothered to respond to them. Frustrating to say the least. But in the email, my niece mentioned a few things. One was that it was now six months since my brother had died.

At first this could be a beginning of a confession: "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession." But it wasn't. Besides I no longer go to confession. Not to a priest. I do make an Act of Contrition and pour out my sins to God, telling Him that I am sorry and asking Him for forgiveness. I assume He hears me and He absolves me. Amen.

But yes, it has been six months since my brother died. I have lived every day of those six months, thinking about my brother and saying a prayer to him. Notice a prayer to him and not for him. To me, my brother was a walking, living, breathing saint on this earth. Something I know and I firmly believe. He was special; a special human being and that special teacher that everyone should have in their lives. He taught history at Loyola Academy in Chicago, Illinois. He taught for over 30 years. He taught a lot of students and in turn, he taught their children. He was a legend to his fellow peers, and students, and friends, and to any one who met him. They repeated his stories and antics. They even set up a page on Facebook dedicated to him.

My brother was a kind and loving person, who never hurt a single person. He was funny and had a great sense of humor. I liked being around him, even if we did live hundreds of miles away from each other, both busy with our families.

My parents did a lot for us but the biggest gift they gave my brother and I was the gift that we were brother and sister, and the same blood that flowed through our veins would bind us. We were close in mind and heart and thought. And we remained close until the end.

So, yes, I guess I would have to say, "Bless me, God, it has been six months since you took my brother home. My sin is that I have missed him, every day. I will always miss him. Amen."