My last conversation

During these trying times with James suffering from cancer, my mom would always tell me to visit him before it was too late. I never formally visited. But I don't regret it because I was blessed enough to pray with him, converse with him, and see him one last time while he was still living on this earth.

My last long 'encounter' (for lack of better words) with James was at a prayer service put on by the sisters. There weren't many words, but there were prayers written on our hearts. It was a meaningful experience. Although it may not have healed him, but I know it gave us all strength. Christ was with us, in the Eucharist, in the Word, and in the church (community, gathering of people) which was a very important affirmation.

My last conversation with James was over aim. I had avoided going on aim for a while, but I've been on more recently. I avoided i/ming James, for fear he were already flood with messages and/or too tired to talk to everyone. But one time, I really wanted to talk to him and so I did. We spoke, and like always James had something to teach me. I told him about getting a bike, being fearful yet excited for the future. Then I told him about my struggle with anger and general hot-blooded-ness. Then I asked him, "how should I handle this?" I actually meant his condition, because I did not know what kind of outlook to have. But he figured I was talking about my anger. He told me something so simple yet very profound. First he said that his father and himself had anger problems. He told me his father learned to control it after going on a retreat with Cursillo. He told me he got over it from simply knowing how much his anger hurts those he loves. I'm still struggling with self control, but I only need to remember his simple words and then I try to muster out his contagious smile.

My last brief encounter with James was Monday, July 7, 2008. I was riding my bike to my local bikeshop to buy a lock. It wasn't open yet so I turned around. Now James' apartment is on the opposite side of the street that I needed to take home, but I had a feeling I should take his side of the street home. Just as I approached the complex, I saw a champagne colored Camry pull out, looked to the driver's seat and saw James' mom. I was bewildered at first, but sure enough James was sitting there in the passenger seat. I waved at both of them and James rolled down the window.

James: "Son, it's good to see you. Where are you going?"

I told him where I was coming from and that I was headed home.

James: "Ah, my mom was just taking me to church. It was good to see you."

He mustered out that same contagious smile, but I could tell it was quite an effort. I fought off the thought that that might be the last time I got to see him alive.

This past Monday, I was talking to my sister online. She said we should visit him. We decided to visit Tuesday. I went to class, and when I got out of those grueling 4 hours, I get a voicemail from a friend asking me if I was alright since he heard that James had past. I was terrified, I thought maybe he had mistaken. I called my sister, confirming my fear.


Heart wrenching, at first, I soon realized how God had been with me through it all, especially through that last fateful and blessed encounter.

Now when I think of James, I can't help but smile. I think about him almost all the time and in all that I do. Though these past years I haven't seen him as much, his memory lives all over my house and deep within my soul. No discredit to my parents, but James brought me through my adolescence. He handled the tough problems and questions those frustrating years bring. He taught me so much. I remember how amazed I was at how knowledgeable he was of our Catholic faith. He was such a busy person, already completing one medical degree and about to finish his second, I often wondered how or when he learned and remembered the deep theology and history of our faith.

Just last Friday, there was a change in me. I took the picture of James and me at my baptism with me for strength and inspiration and I was able to get a good amount of work and studies done. Again, I know this is a blessing from the Father, and a gift made possible through James.

I drew this mildly disturbing, hopefully not blasphemous picture the other day in my hydraulics class.



Some of you may recognize the position from an image James drew of Christ. I always found it odd that James drew Christ crucified in such a position, and in my hydraulics class I felt like maybe this was a symbol of James' cross and sharing in Christ's passion.



Well, this is just a ramble, but I can't keep it in. That's why I have this thing. I guess what I really wanted to say was thank you, James. Truly, thank you.