In the Father’s Arms

DEAR friend,

This year’s All Souls’ Day carries a deeper sorrow for me, marked by the loss of Guerrino, my faithful friend of more than fifty years.

We first met in 1971 while working at the same bank. From the beginning, a strong bond formed between us. When, six years later, I chose to enter the Order of Friars Minor Conventual, Guerrino remained a steadfast and brotherly presence. He visited me throughout my formation, and was present at the key moments of my journey toward religious life and priesthood.

Our friendship extended beyond shared interests and faith. From time to time, we took short holidays together, and one in particular stands out – a brief stay in Fiera di Primiero, in the heart of the Dolomites. During those days, Guerrino opened up to me about a deeply personal chapter of his life.

He told me he had lost his mother when he was only 5. With six other children to care for, his father couldn’t manage on his own, so Guerrino was sent to live with a distant aunt – a widowed, childless woman he had met only once before.

He recalled the sorrow of leaving his family – tears filled his eyes as he said goodbye to his father and siblings, uncertain of what lay ahead. Would his aunt welcome him with love, or was she simply taking him in out of obligation?

When he arrived at her home, she greeted him with immense tenderness and a warm embrace. From that moment on, she treated him not only as a son, but as something more – a precious gift she believed God had entrusted to her.

Although Aunt Amelia’s love gave him the security of a true home, Guerrino’s life was far from easy. Beneath his quiet strength lay a path marked by suffering – beginning with a serious illness that would remain with him for the rest of his life. At 16, he was diagnosed with a serious illness that led to frequent hospital stays and years of physical struggle.

After retirement, he experienced only a brief period of relative calm – soon overshadowed by the worsening of his health. Kidney failure led to dialysis three times a week. Not long after, he developed macular degeneration, which eventually caused blindness – and with it, a deep and painful depression.

In one of his darkest moments, he asked me, “After all the suffering I’ve endured, will the Lord have mercy on me? Will He welcome me into His Kingdom, or cast me away?”

The answer came to me like a whisper from above: “When you left your family to go to your aunt’s house, what were you thinking? Will she love me? Will I be happy? These are the same questions you are asking now. And just as the answer then was an embrace, so it will be now. God will be waiting at the door, running to meet you with arms wide open. Just as Aunt Amelia’s embrace took away your fear, so too will His – only now with a love that has no end. Do not be afraid.”

And so it will be for all of us.

In this month of remembrance, we are invited not only to mourn, but to hope. The pain of separation is real, but so is the promise that lies beyond it. In the mystery of death, we do not vanish into silence – we journey toward a love greater than any we have ever experienced.

Let us entrust our loved ones, and ourselves, to God’s mercy, and walk forward in faith – confident that the One who awaits us is even now preparing a place for us, ready to receive us in His eternal embrace.

With gratitude for your friendship, and with you in prayer,

Father Mario