questions for her, now is the time to ask them."
"Yeah, right. If I dare discuss anything other than the weather with her, Molly will have my head. My marching orders from Molly are to be bright and cheerful and not upset my mother."
"This isn't about Molly. It's about you and your mother. Sure, it won't be easy for you to ask questions and it may not be easy for Rose to answer them, but you'll regret it if you don't ask. Many times I counsel families not to bring up distressing topics when a patient is this close to the end. In this case I believe it would be good for both you and your mother to have an honest conversation about what you feel she's kept from you. You may not like what she has to say, but at least you'll know."
"So we can have closure?"
"Closure. I hate that word." Sister Elizabeth stubbed out her cigarette. "You can't wrap up a forty year relationship in a neat little package with a few words. But, you can be honest with each other, and that's something more than what you have now, isn't it?"
I nodded. Sister Elizabeth lit another cigarette.
"I almost don't know where to begin," I said, my voice husky with emotion. "I don't know her at all. You say my mother broke the rules by sneaking in chocolate? I can't imagine anyone less likely to break a rule. Or to do anything really. She's spent her life in that house on Rose Hill. Gardening. Cooking dinner for my grandmother. Going to mass. What kind of life was that?"
"Is that really who you think your mother is?" Sister Elizabeth asked. "You make her sound like a housekeeper."
"That's what she was, wasn't she? She wasn't a wife. She wasn't much of a mother. What did she ever do other than serve as my grandmother's skivvy."
"I feel sorry for you, Ellen. I really do, and I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings. Rose is one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She's given up everything to care for her family. Her freedom. Her vocation. Her very life."
"Come on," I scoffed. "You're making her sound like Mother Teresa. This is what I know: she flunked out of the convent because she couldn't hack it. She obviously went out one night, got pregnant and couldn't convince the guy to stick around. Then she hid behind my grandmother for the rest of her life."
"You two do have a lot to discuss. But, I'll tell you what I know about Rose. I know that I wouldn't be a nun today if it wasn't for her. I wouldn't have made it through that first year, and I wouldn't have made it through all these years, when so many of my fellow sisters left, some abandoning the Faith altogether. I couldn't have stuck it out without Rose's constant encouragement, even though for years my only contact with her was through her letters and small gifts of chocolate." She looked at me expectantly, but when I said nothing she continued. "What do you think she's been doing since you left home? She nursed your grandmother once the dementia set it. She was active in her church and in the community. She volunteered here twice a week and started the homeless initiative at St. Ann's. Rose cooked and cleaned for the homeless men who slept in the church basement once a week, did you know that? She may have left the convent, and I will leave it to her to explain the circumstances to you, but she continued her life of service. Service to her family, her community, her God. Rosie's had a beautiful, meaningful life," Sister Elizabeth's voice broke. "I'm sorry that you can't see that."
Sister Elizabeth picked up the cigarette butts at her feet and left me to the solitude of the courtyard, her words reverberating in my skull.
My mother didn't wake up for the rest of the day. I sat in her room for hours and contemplated Sister Elizabeth's words. Lisa relieved me at three and I drove to the house on Rose Hill.
The roar of the mower greeted me. I walked around to the back of the house and found Billy in all his sweaty, shirtless glory. His back muscles were taut as he pushed the lawnmower through
"Yeah, right. If I dare discuss anything other than the weather with her, Molly will have my head. My marching orders from Molly are to be bright and cheerful and not upset my mother."
"This isn't about Molly. It's about you and your mother. Sure, it won't be easy for you to ask questions and it may not be easy for Rose to answer them, but you'll regret it if you don't ask. Many times I counsel families not to bring up distressing topics when a patient is this close to the end. In this case I believe it would be good for both you and your mother to have an honest conversation about what you feel she's kept from you. You may not like what she has to say, but at least you'll know."
"So we can have closure?"
"Closure. I hate that word." Sister Elizabeth stubbed out her cigarette. "You can't wrap up a forty year relationship in a neat little package with a few words. But, you can be honest with each other, and that's something more than what you have now, isn't it?"
I nodded. Sister Elizabeth lit another cigarette.
"I almost don't know where to begin," I said, my voice husky with emotion. "I don't know her at all. You say my mother broke the rules by sneaking in chocolate? I can't imagine anyone less likely to break a rule. Or to do anything really. She's spent her life in that house on Rose Hill. Gardening. Cooking dinner for my grandmother. Going to mass. What kind of life was that?"
"Is that really who you think your mother is?" Sister Elizabeth asked. "You make her sound like a housekeeper."
"That's what she was, wasn't she? She wasn't a wife. She wasn't much of a mother. What did she ever do other than serve as my grandmother's skivvy."
"I feel sorry for you, Ellen. I really do, and I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings. Rose is one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She's given up everything to care for her family. Her freedom. Her vocation. Her very life."
"Come on," I scoffed. "You're making her sound like Mother Teresa. This is what I know: she flunked out of the convent because she couldn't hack it. She obviously went out one night, got pregnant and couldn't convince the guy to stick around. Then she hid behind my grandmother for the rest of her life."
"You two do have a lot to discuss. But, I'll tell you what I know about Rose. I know that I wouldn't be a nun today if it wasn't for her. I wouldn't have made it through that first year, and I wouldn't have made it through all these years, when so many of my fellow sisters left, some abandoning the Faith altogether. I couldn't have stuck it out without Rose's constant encouragement, even though for years my only contact with her was through her letters and small gifts of chocolate." She looked at me expectantly, but when I said nothing she continued. "What do you think she's been doing since you left home? She nursed your grandmother once the dementia set it. She was active in her church and in the community. She volunteered here twice a week and started the homeless initiative at St. Ann's. Rose cooked and cleaned for the homeless men who slept in the church basement once a week, did you know that? She may have left the convent, and I will leave it to her to explain the circumstances to you, but she continued her life of service. Service to her family, her community, her God. Rosie's had a beautiful, meaningful life," Sister Elizabeth's voice broke. "I'm sorry that you can't see that."
Sister Elizabeth picked up the cigarette butts at her feet and left me to the solitude of the courtyard, her words reverberating in my skull.
My mother didn't wake up for the rest of the day. I sat in her room for hours and contemplated Sister Elizabeth's words. Lisa relieved me at three and I drove to the house on Rose Hill.
The roar of the mower greeted me. I walked around to the back of the house and found Billy in all his sweaty, shirtless glory. His back muscles were taut as he pushed the lawnmower through
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