“No problem at all. Let’s go in my office, shall we?” He started across the lobby, talking over one shoulder. “Actually a great time to catch me. Most days around now, this place is pretty quiet.”
Quiet was an understatement. The whole sprawling building felt like one large tomb. Somewhere, a printer was printing over the sound of our padded footsteps. Nothing else.
His office sat at the back of the building’s long hallway, and I resisted looking down the stairwell toward the basement as we passed it. When we were inside, he closed the door and gestured toward the seat across the desk as if he thought I might stay standing.
“I just got back from our sister parish,” he said, settling his bulk into a leather office chair. “Father Thomas is out with a nasty cold, so I was making a few rounds for him. Confessions for the elderly who can’t travel, that sort of thing. Good to get out and about once in a while for sure.” He steepled his fingers and watched me over their peaks. “So how’re you holding up, Andrew?”
“Ah, good, good.”
“And your father?”
“He’s doing well. As well as can be.”
“Such a terrible disease. I can’t imagine. We’re all thinking of him—can you pass that along? We haven’t seen him as much lately on Sundays.”
He let it hang out there, but I didn’t take the bait. You mean he hasn’t been coming to church as much since I came back to care for him, I thought. It wasn’t true—Kel said years ago Dad had dropped his attendance to once a month. Church had been more our mother’s thing, not his.
“I’ll let him know,” I said, clearing my throat. “That’s kind of what I came to talk to you about, actually. I’m sure you’re aware my mother set certain guidelines in her will regarding her Roth IRA.”
He nodded. I waited, but that was it. A nod. I went on.
“So I’ll be honest with you: financially, we’re in a bit of need. Dad’s pension only covers so much, and my sister and I are both pitching in, but we’re stretched pretty thin. So I was wondering if there was a way to revert the funds back to Dad? Possibly a monthly donation from the church?”
Father Mathew watched me for another beat, just long enough to be uncomfortable, then pulled his hands apart. “Andrew, are you familiar with the story of the widow’s offering?”
Sweat crept down the back of my hairline and into my collar. “No, I don’t think so.”
“One day when Jesus was at the temple, he saw the rich men donating their wealth to the treasury. Then an old widow came along and put just two coins in the coffer, and Jesus said, ‘This poor widow has given more than anyone else.’” He blinked a few times. “You see, she had less than anyone else but still gave.”
“Yes, I understand the parable,” I said. My hands had curled in on themselves.
“Your mother was a woman of great faith and great generosity. Faith is a sacred thing. Who are we to question her ideals? Who are we to rescind her wishes?” I was speechless for a few seconds, unable to process what he was saying. He took it as a cue for him to continue. “Now, there’s no reason we can’t figure something out. We have a dedicated volunteer care staff and food delivery service. I can make a note for Jill to call you; she’s been filling in here since Mary’s passing.” His expression darkened. “I’m still trying to accept she’s gone. So strange to walk past her desk and see it empty. It’s just wrong. But—”
“But God has a plan for everything—is that what you were going to say?” I asked. My hands weren’t hands anymore. They were fists.
“I believe he does,” Father Mathew continued, unfazed. Unaffected. “As painful as someone’s passing can be, all is for a purpose in something greater we don’t always grasp.”
“My dad won’t know who I am in the coming years. He’ll die living minute to minute, not understanding why he’s where he is, or potentially who he is. And he knows that now. He knows it’s coming. Like seeing a train hurtling toward you without being able to step off the tracks. What purpose does that serve?”
“Andrew, listen—”
“I’m sorry if you’re still upset about the stained glass. I’m still upset my sister’s lying in the cemetery across town. Now, I came to ask for kindness, for mercy, for help. I thought this was supposed to be the building you went to for something like that.” All my anger, my frustration, my helplessness from the last weeks came pouring out.