10/11/19 - When I was assembling photos for Penny's tribute video, I came across one that I had not seen before. It was from a group of photographs that we had inherited from her mother when she moved to California at the end of her life. The picture was of Penny at about age 7, smiling proudly and dressed in a very pretty white dress, holding a small white book. It was the day of her First Holy Communion, a rite that all Catholic school children of that age observed in the 1950's. Penny was raised a Catholic as a child, as was I. But her fractured family life got between her and religion somewhere along the way, and by the time we met she had long since become what is euphemistically called a "lapsed Catholic". I, too, had for many years ceased active involvement with organized religion, despite having attended Catholic grade school, high school and (after secular college) law school, and having my first marriage occur in the Church. But when our son Patrick was born, we decided that we would take a fresh start with the Catholic faith, and have infant Patrick baptized. When we met with the pastor at St. Mary's Church in Los Gatos for our interview, he had many questions about our personal histories as Catholics. All went well until he learned that, prior to marrying Penny, I had gotten divorced from the woman I previously had married in the Church. He advised that Patrick could not be baptized until I had resolved that transgression by having that first marriage formally annulled through the procedure required by the Catholic Church. This was stunning to Penny and me, as we could see no justification for imposing the sin of his father onto the innocent child. Further, on investigation, I found that the annulment process was complex and require the participation of the former spouse to establish that the marriage fell into one of the specific "defect" categories. For a number of reasons, I decided that I would not create a fiction to satisfy that process. The entire illogical and unreasonable obstacle to be baptizing Patrick also represented a roadblock to our re-engaging with the Church.
Over the years of our marriage, religion never again became a significant part of our lives. We attended Mass occasionally, we enjoyed many friends who were devoted Catholics, and we placed a high priority in our travels to visiting churches of historical significance. We did not discuss deeper issues of faith, including even the existence of God or of an afterlife. When Penny was diagnosed with cancer, and especially as the end of her life was clearly approaching, I intended nevertheless to ask a priest to administer last rites, though I hesitated to do it any sooner than necessary to avoid the signal to Penny that I thought it was the end. Of course, the end came in a rush, and in the emotional turmoil of keeping her comfortable and saying goodbye, the call to a priest never got made. I regret that very much.
As I explained in an earlier chapter, one of my fears has been that Penny's existence has been extinguished in every conceivable sense, physically, spiritually and metaphysically. Regardless of what form it takes, I want so badly to believe in the survival of her spirit, her soul, the essence of her nonphysical being. Whether that means that we meet again in some other realm or not is not so important; rather it is the hope and belief that there was so much more to her than the body growing cold that early morning or the urn full of ashes.
After giving it a great deal of thought, I contacted a Jesuit priest with whom I had become very well acquainted through my legal work for the Jesuit office. He is an administrator, and we had never discussed religious topics during our several years of working together. I was not even sure how much pastoral work he did beyond his business duties. When I wrote, I asked for some spiritual counseling without telling him what it was about, and he responded with great willingness to meet. I was afraid that tears would make the discussion somewhat difficult, and I was correct. But when we met, he was a much different person than the guy I had discussed building permit applications with. He asked me to pray with him before we got far into the conversation, and it felt good to do that. I then stumbled through what had happened, our history with the Church, and why I was afraid. The more I talked, the better I felt to be unburdened. Our discussion about faith and some of the failings of organized religion were just what I was hoping to find. No answers, but a renewed openness to exploring the questions and to letting my heart sometimes overrule my empirical mind. At the end, he gave me absolution from my sins, and I literally felt the opportunity for a fresh start with God...in whatever form I believe him/her to be.... and for a new communication channel with Penny, both now and when it becomes my turn to leave this earthly life.
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