Oasis of Truth

The candles flickered gently from the altar as a tear escaped from her emerald green eyes, rolling slowly down her cheek like a single raindrop on the windshield of a car. She didn’t know what was more painful, remembering what they shared or dwelling on what they could have had. When she met Richard she had embraced the excitement of love and celebrated the wisdom of waiting, knowing all along that the gift of marriage would come in its own time. Now, the idea of remaining single and childless tore at the core of her heart.

Looking around at the stained-glass windows that surrounded the church, Anna was struck by a certain shade of blue on an angel’s wing. The bright blue was an exact match of little Matthew’s eyes, and she could picture his precious, smiling face with his irresistible boyish grin. Matthew, I’ll never stop looking for you.

The last time she had seen Richard and Matthew was at a busy terminal in Boston’s Logan Airport February 15, 2005, saying their dreaded goodbyes. Long distance relationships were tough, but she knew they would soon be married and the inevitable goodbye at the gate would soon be a thing of the past. After a soft kiss and a caress of the cheek she had turned to board the plane, glancing back not once but twice at the man she was to marry, and the young son she had grown to love as her own.

“I miss your face,” Anna murmured softly as she brushed another tear from her face.

The click of high heels on the cathedral’s marble floors drew Anna’s attention to the side of the pews. A tall, elegant woman seated herself across the aisle from Anna. Her long, marshmallow-colored hair, which cascaded down her shoulders, was very noticeable against her black linen suit. She pushed back her bangs and gave Anna a slight nod, and Anna responded with a polite smile. The woman, too, knelt down to pray. Her brown rosary rattled and could be heard in the large cathedral as she moved her fingers down the beads in fervent prayer. An elderly man walking with a wooden cane hobbled toward the flower-filled altar and lit a candle at the feet of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s statue. Anna wondered about the lovely woman this man was probably grieving for and watched the delicate way in which he moved, being reminded that grief that followed death may well last the rest of one’s life. Anna got up from the kneeler, sat back in the pew, and then took a deep breath, asking God to grant her peace.

Even after two years she still saw Richard’s face in unexpected places and heard his voice in her dreams. One thing that tormented her was the way in which he died. She couldn’t think of anything worse than a plane crash. The confusion, the noise, and the fear must have been awful for Richard and the other passenger onboard. This she couldn’t shake. Even though he had been a marine and was used to being in life and death situations, the thought of his final moments sickened her. He didn’t die in the name of duty and honor for his country, he died just flying across the deep, cold waters of the Atlantic; his body and the body of his employer were never recovered. The other knot that tormented her deep down in the pit of her stomach was her inability to locate Matthew. Richard was a widower and had sole custody of the son he shared with his deceased wife, but after the plane crash Anna was informed that the young boy would live with his grandparents in Venezuela. Wanting to see Matthew and have some contact with him, Anna tried diligently to arrange a way to continue a relationship with him, even though her name was not mentioned in Richard’s will. After dealing with the state department and several other government agencies, Anna was frustrated and then devastated when told in March of last year that the young boy had been kidnapped by warfare guerrillas from a schoolyard. Matthew, along with other young school children, had been taken, and the Venezuelan authorities didn’t feel confident that the children would ever be returned. So after traveling to Venezuela last June to meet his grandparents and see what she could learn from the authorities about the kidnapping, Anna returned home with more questions and fewer answers, confronted daily with indescribable unrest. Her already wounded heart broke in more places into tiny pieces, and she was unsure if it could ever be put back together again.

The sudden movement of the refined lady drew Anna’s attention back over to the pews located on the left side of the aisle. She watched the woman exit her pew and walk back toward the narthex and noticed she was standing in front of the confessionals, apparently waiting to go to confession before Mass. Anna glanced at her watch, curious of the time, and realized Mass would not begin for another ten minutes. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying not to succumb to the overwhelming sadness rising up in her. The silence in the cathedral allowed her to think and pray some more.

Not realizing how much time had passed, her heavy eyes opened when the sound of organ pipes unloaded their beautiful music, which echoed throughout Saint Joseph’s Cathedral as the procession began down the long aisle toward the altar. The hymn, “Take up Your Cross,” resounded as Anna stood, closed her eyes, and asked for God’s mercy and protection for Matthew. She prayed for the soul of Richard Owen Klein.