Let’s Keep in Touch

Dear Friend,

A few days ago, I went to visit a good friend of mine. Tony and I first met many years ago, when we worked together at a bank. Being seventeen years my senior, he naturally became something of a fatherly figure to me in the office. His wisdom, kindness, and quiet faith earned my respect long before I entered religious life. So, while many people were surprised when I announced that I had decided to leave my job and join the Order of Friars Minor Conventual, Tony was not.

The following day he came to me and said, “I had imagined this, and I think it is the best choice for you. You will have your difficulties, but I am certain your life will be complete. I will always follow you with my thoughts and prayers.” That is exactly what he did.

Over the years, he was present at important moments of my vocation, from my profession as a friar to my ordination as a priest. Later, my ministry brought me to Padua, where I began working for the Messenger of Saint Anthony and serving at the Basilica. Since Tony also lived in Padua, we continued to meet from time to time, often sharing a pizza while catching up on one another’s lives.

The years passed. Hair turned grey. Yet our friendship remained remarkably unchanged. Every time we met, it felt as though we were simply continuing a conversation that had begun decades earlier. Such friendships are among God’s most precious gifts. Perhaps we do not fully appreciate them until the years have passed.

Last week, I received a phone call from Tony’s daughter. At the venerable age of 94, time and illness had taken their toll on my friend. He was no longer alert and could barely communicate. I was asked to come and administer the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick. I set out immediately.

When I entered his room, I wondered whether he would recognize me. Then, as soon as he saw me, a faint smile appeared on his face. I sat beside him and said, “Tony, I’ve brought you a very special medicine today – one that is especially good for the soul.” We began the Liturgy of Anointing.

I wondered how much he understood. Then, when I invited him to make the Sign of the Cross, he slowly raised his hand and blessed himself. Throughout the prayers, he remained calm and peaceful. It was a precious moment. Just a daughter, an old friend, and the quiet presence of God.

As I left, I found myself reflecting on the way we accompany people at the end of life. We often speak of saying goodbye, as if a final separation were approaching. Yet Christian faith invites us to see things differently.

Love does not end when words become difficult. Friendship does not disappear when memories fade. The bonds we share are sustained by something deeper than conversation or physical presence. They are sustained by God.

A few days later, Tony quietly passed into the arms of the Lord. I was saddened, of course, but also grateful. Grateful for a friendship that had accompanied me through much of my life. Grateful that, in one of life’s most fragile moments, faith helped us to communicate in a language deeper than words.

For Christians, death is never the final word. It is not the end of a relationship, but a passage into God’s embrace. So, when we stand beside a dying friend, perhaps we are not really saying goodbye. Instead, we are saying, “Thank you. We will prayerfully keep in touch – until we meet again.”