Guess he got his wish – sans the bed sheet...
On a spur of the moment, late this afternoon I thought I would pay the Brother Lolo a visit. Thought that was the least I could do for him considering the number of stories he left me to write about in this blog. And there will be more, I promise…
But of course, the first thing I did when I got to school during his birthdays was to seek him out... He so loved celebrating his birthdays, particularly when he was surrounded by little children and the faculty and staff fawned all over him.
It had rained briefly prior to my short walk to the cemetery. The grounds were, therefore, lovely in an almost surreal way. For one thing, the property is heavily wooded; and with the ground damp from the mid-afternoon drizzle, the air was most pleasurable to suck into one’s lungs.
I had not gone to the cemetery recently, so I was surprised to see that its remodeling had been finished. From a distance – and with a small chapel right next to it – it looked not unlike a resort up in the Swiss Alps.
I thought the Brother Lolo would feel right at home. Once – I believe it was during another of his birthdays – one of his sisters described the Brother Lolo as the kind of person who loved to surround himself with beautiful things. Now, even in eternal repose, he is...
I was all alone inside the cemetery building where quite a few old friends now rest. Before I even sought out the Brother Lolo, I paused by the tomb of Brother Greg, an old friend who was both a former teacher and a former colleague.
Just two decades ago, none of what we have now even remotely seemed possible. He started with a dream for the school and the city. Then, he made us dream along with him, making us push forward until our dream – ultimately – became a reality.
Of course, just to say that short prayer I had to steel my forelegs to remain rooted to the floor. My head was starting to feel like it was growing in diameter and the hairs at the back of my neck were starting to stand on their ends. Oh, I must have forgotten to say that while I do not see “things,” the hairs at the back of my neck standing are the surest sign that I am in the company of those who cannot be seen.
Thankfully, the white turned out to be the t-shirt worn by Brother Joseph, an Indian Brother who introduced himself as visiting from Rome. He was taking a late afternoon walk. I am sure I must have – if just for a moment – looked positively startled and ready to break into a run.
And the Brother Lolo, from wherever he was watching me, was probably doubled over in laughter...
Brother Lolo's Sister Madre Friends