Proof of Heaven by Mary Curran Hackett

semester of college, but there wasn’t enough time. Sean told her it was all bullshit, that he had every right to know what was going on. But Cathleen and her mother knew how Sean operated—if things didn’t go perfectly or according to plan, he’d invariably quit and turn to the bottle. Or worse, he would have felt bad for his mother and would have given it all up altogether just to be with her. He would have easily sacrificed his career as a priest, if it had meant he could stay near her.
    He wanted to be angry at Cathleen for keeping this secret from him, but he could tell she was hurting too. They only had each other now. There would be no one else in the world for them. He’d told Cathleen he would try to get to her as soon as possible.
    After Sean had hung up with his sister, he cried for his mother, he cried for the father he never knew, and he cried for himself—his lonely, sad, adult-orphaned self. He cried because he was angry. His anger surged and rose through him, like a heat wave that evaporated the moisture off the city streets and made steamy waves that obscured his view, making everything look blurry. Nothing came into focus. He sat alone with his questions for a long time. Why was everyone’s life filled with so much loss and pain? Why did the people we love the most have to go?
    Eventually he threw open the window of his dorm room and let the cold blast of air wash over his face and body. Finally, it seemed, he woke from the dream. Yes, as quickly as his newfound fire for God came, it left him like a powerful gust of air, a massive backdraft, fast and forceful, consuming him completely without a moment to inhale or to know what hit him before it all went black. He didn’t know it then, but he would look for that fire everywhere, eventually settling for the real thing as a firefighter just two years later.
    Sean quickly packed and turned off the lights in his room for the last time. Through the open window, the blue mosaic dome of the basilica shone underneath the moonlight. It seemed absurd to him now to think he would have ever said Mass below that dome. Everything around him seemed a cosmic joke, and for the first time in months he felt the ground beneath him, the cold air, and the ache in his chest and head. The light had gone out of him, and all the wonder and awe that had filled him until that moment just disappeared. In its place was a gaping hole in the middle of his chest that no amount of prayer or drink would ever fill. His life would never be the same. There was no one to please. No one to try to make proud. No one, except for Cathleen, left to worry about him—or to protect him.
    Sean closed his eyes. Even though he was supposed to be a man, he still felt like a boy, the same boy who soared through his mother’s apartment, running with his arms outstretched while warning, “Look out, look out! Here I come, Mama!” He felt sure that at any moment she would appear before him, and she would, he was certain of it, catch him midair, swing him over her shoulders, and tell him the entire world was his for the having.
    But when he opened his eyes, he remembered he was not that boy anymore or the man he was supposed to be today. Who was going to hold him now and tell him it would all work out, that everything would be just fine?
    His mother was gone.
    When Cathleen stepped into her bedroom while brushing her hair, she found her bed made and the hot coffee set on her dresser next to her brother and son’s picture. She smiled and shouted down the hall, “Thanks, Sean.”
    â€œDoes it taste OK?”
    â€œI meant thanks for everything—for the coffee, for staying over, for being here, for helping with Colm yesterday. All of it. Thanks. And I am sorry. About before. What I said. I really am.”
    â€œNo big deal, Sis. Hurry up, so we can get out of here,” Sean shouted back. Sean wasn’t big on scenes. Besides, he knew she