My fave Man in Black

Father Howard and Paul share a laugh Sunday

He arrived Sunday afternoon in khaki shorts and regular shirt - no priestly collar. Totally incognito was Fr. Howard Fitzgerald, our favorite priest. I've written about him before but the story is important enough that I'll repeat - a short version.

The year was 1991, we'd just learned our new baby, Patrick George had a severe heart defect. He was life-flighted to DSM, with Paul following behind by car. Holy Spirit's priest arrived at my hospital room during the middle of the night. I didn't know the guy - and had been a little intimidated by his sermons. Father Howard hadn't been in Creston all that long. We sat and talked - I don't remember what about. I'm sure I babbled on about Amy and Jud and our plans for Patrick and the perfect family. I was glad I wasn't all alone after the shock of the news.

Throughout the ordeal of the rest of Patrick's short life, Father Howard was at our sides. As we made the excruciating decision to disconnect life-support, and later back in Creston when our son passed away peacefully at the hospital at the age of 6 days. Of course his homily at the funeral was perfect. My sisters loved making him a margarita later at our house.

Father H said someone in the parish wanted to loan us money for our expenses - because he knew we were worried about it. He gave us an envelope of cash and said to pay it back when we could. I've always suspected it might have been him. (The money made us nervous and we paid it back in short order, with many thanks to our parents for helping with burial expenses)

Howard was there for us - in those rough days, weeks and months after we lost our son. He stopped at our house evenings nearly every week for a long time - until he knew our marriage would last. The kids got used to seeing him - Amy was 6 years old, and Jud 3. They were hanging with the priest, eating popcorn. They'd show him their toys. He became our friend and spiritual coach - and at the time I was wondering if there really was a God. If so why would he pick on us?

So we got through it - as much as anyone can. Father Howard stayed at Holy Spirit a couple more years and then he moved on. Oh how I've missed him. A priest who can call up Deb, the manager of Planned Parenthood and say, as a joke, "this is a bomb threat." He was really calling her for some committee meeting. An open minded, somewhat liberal priest! Not everyone liked him in Creston - he's not afraid to call people to the carpet. He's a passionate guy. He won't do things like allow people to marry in the church when they aren't members. He won't run all over Iowa to perform marriages, funerals, etc.

Howard had been in Altoona recently, and I met him for lunch a couple years ago. Since then he took a break from parish life and got to go to the Holy Land to study. When he came back he filled in at some churches before settling in at Glenwood. We've been emailing lately and invited him for supper. He took us up on it Sunday - he came to see us and to share a meal, then stayed the night on his way to a priest wingding Monday. I hope it wasn't he who called me collect from the Madison County Jail Monday! If so, I'm sorry I panicked and hung up. haha

Father Howard helps give me faith in the Catholic church. Many years have passed since that first night we sat together (going on 21!). Love that guy.

Patrick - angel at 20

Was it really me who had that baby who died? Sometimes it feels like that was someone else. Have I really grown that old? In some ways I feel like I was older when Patrick was born on December 2 and died December 8, 1991. He had a congenital heart defect that perhaps today they might have detected while I was pregnant. Would that have changed things?

Anyway, I sure had to act grown up then - a dead child with two babies to raise. Thirty four years old. Phew. Looking back, I was ancient!

Now I'm 54 with a child gone now twenty years! I was feeling so casual about today, Pat's bday, until I heard from some of my fam. Cindo texted. Jordie put something on Facebook and Betso emailed. Then Jud sent a text. I saw that Amy posted a photo of the three kids on Facebook and that really got to me - along with all the associated comments. My poor baby boy - his siblings who never got to know him. Thinking about it makes me a little weepy. It still hurts.

I always thought I'd be an "under the radar" kinda person. I wouldn't be the smartest, the prettiest or the nicest. On the flipside - I didn't consider myself a total dog in the looks department, and I know I'm pretty darn smart (or smartass). I wouldn't ever be the baddest - though I knew how to get in a bit 'o trouble. So I didn't think God would notice me enough to pick on me. Hey, I kept my head down!

So I'm still pretty shocked that it happened to me. To us. How did our family get picked to lose a child? Is there someone/something that does the picking? Is it to help character development? To make us learn a lesson? Was it protection from something that would have happened later in Patrick's life - he was destined to be a druggie? Or does stuff like that just happen randomly, and the higher power cries along with us when we hurt?

I still don't have the answers - the ones I searched so hard for right after Patrick was born and died. And I don't know why a good guy like my bro-in-law Boldie had to get an aggressive form of prostate cancer, or Thea is forced to fight myeloma. There are a lot of sucky things in life we all have to deal with. I guess if we knew, then we'd be that thing we call God.

When I think of Patrick - the miracle was the way our loved ones carried us through that awful time. And beyond that, the way others, some we didn't even know very well, reached out too. It was very touching. And I'll never forget our dear friend Father Howard. He alone makes me give the Catholic Church a pass on many transgressions. The guy spent a couple years stopping by our house, just checking on us, making sure our marriage survived the loss of a child.

He even loaned us money for medical and burial expenses - though he said it was from an anonymous parishioner - I'm sure it was him. Having someone give you an envelope with $2,000 cash in it, saying "just repay it when you can," was shocking. Humbling. We gave it all back quickly - we were fortunate that our parents helped with the funeral expenses. But I have never forgotten that loan.

Bless you our angel Patrick, on your 20th birthday. I learned many lessons because of you. I feel blessed to have a wonderful husband and two other fantastic kids.

For everyone dealing with the difficult things in life - may you be surrounded by loving people who help carry you.