Godfathers

In January 2021, I finally got motivated to go through my father’s memorabilia. He had died in 2013. The first item I grabbed was a photo of his 1940s Catholic school class with names of the kids written on the back, including his best friend Max.

My son was going to a Catholic school that year as a third-grader so he could attend school face to face, and he didn’t like it. My aunt had just told me that my Dad also hated third grade because of a mean nun. In my hand was a photo of that nun! That alone was a coincidence. My dad also had not wanted my son to attend that Catholic School because kids played in the parking lot, which he found depressing.

In the diary my dad had kept for 20 years, many of the entries featured Max. Max’s daughter Michelle, my dad’s god daughter, had been tragically killed by a drunk driver in front of her house and in front of her children.

I thought my dad would be upset that we ended up at that Catholic school and that it was permanent. But I was reminded that he was a godfather and had some Catholic in him.

The next day, walking the dog, I spotted a card on the ground four houses from mine. It was a battered note to my son from his godfather, Brian. The note said “Congratulations on your first communion. May you continue to walk with Jesus.” My son’s first communion was five months before!

Brian and I talked about logical reasons why the card would have ended up there but agreed that my dad was talking to me and telling me it was okay. My son ended back at his beloved elementary school the next year.