It has been rare for me- finding a priest with whom I could relate. Debating the beliefs we both hold dear, having a man of the cloth understand...
Father Steve was a rare individual- he had been in the world enough to understand the frustrations of his flock.
He was kindness and love every day.
He said Mass at my house before I left for the Peace Corps- and was so proud of me.
He was as kind to my Granny as if she was his own. Everyone loved him.
Even as he fought the disease that took his life, he was kind to me.
I was carrying my first child and had been quite ill throughout my pregnancy. I felt poorly and looked worse. But not to Father Steve.
On our last visit before he died, he told me I looked beautiful- a powerful reminder of this great gift of life. I only regret he did not get to meet my daughter. He died eight days after Liz was born.
And I still miss him.
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