TheBanyanTree: Good-bye

[LLDeMerle]

"It's like a wake," the woman at the end of the line said.  "The line
doesn't move and everyone is saying good-bye."  

Indeed, the line was not moving, and growing even longer.  Past the kitchen,
past the restrooms and the drinking fountains, since 3PM and it was now past
5.  Dominic was leaving us and saying good-bye to his people.

He was very popular in this town, so popular, in fact, that after serving
one term with us, a number of years passed and it was requested he return to
us.  This was something unusual, for his group.  You served once and moved
on, then on, again.

His stories were the best.  One of my favorites is when his mother left him
in the care of his older sister and instructed him not to go outside because
it was raining.  The rain stopped and he went outside.  The next thing he
knew, he was chasing a girl, fell and split open his knee.  He limped back
home, where he locked himself in the bathroom.  His sister stood outside the
door and insisted he let her in.  He did, she saw the blood and fainted.
When Mother came home, she had the last word.

"I told you you shouldn't have gone out."

There's the one about how he and his sister were arguing.  She was much
older and stronger than he was, so she held his arms and used his own hands
to hit him with, all the while, taunting, 

"Stop slapping yourself, will you?"

How when he had cancer and lost all of his hair with chemotherapy, he bought
a wig so that his mother wouldn't be upset when she came up to visit and saw
him as bald as a cue ball.  He opened the door, she pointed to his head and
said,

"What is that?"

"It's a wig."

"Get rid of it!"

The stories go on and on, some funny, some thought-provoking, but when I
left him, I always felt satisfied.  A man of substance, so are his stories.

After an hour in line, where he kissed babies and everyone, really, it was
our turn.  We embraced, he said he was going to call me when all of this was
over, and when I put my arm around him and said I would miss him, he kissed
me like a father kisses a daughter.  Full of love, acceptance, safety.  "It
goes both ways," he said into my hair.

"Have a good life," was all I could manage.  I imagined his travels.  He'll
need mosquito repellent in the swamps I thought.  Sunscreen in New Mexico to
protect his ever-sunburned head.  A sweater when he moves to Canada.  A fur
hat for those cold winters. 

This man of God is the real thing.  I sure will miss you, Father Dominic.
If you get there before us, save a few pews.

LL