A Reflection
Sister "Aunt Pat" Valentine was a woman who taught everyone she met about life, and how to live it. I am delighted to have met Aunt Pat and gotten to know her, but only sorry I didn't know her earlier and longer. She was already fighting cancer when we met, and her courageous and faith-filled walk is one that will continue to inspire all of us who were privileged to walk with her for any length of the time.
We talked one morning while riding in the car together. It was the first very serious talk about death I had with her. She taught me about facing it with total faith in God in that conversation. She spoke of the thoughts that raced through her mind when she looked to the future, and what her cancer would most likely bring. She prayed to die without pain, but she told me she was not afraid to die. She said she really didn't know what God had in place for us as "heaven" but trusted it was good. Why? Because there was too much good in this life for the next not to be better. This was just a shadow of the real thing in God's presence. I drove in silence as I listened to her, and stopped to get a coffee for us just to lengthen the short ride we were taking. She told me she was far more worried for her nephew than for herself.
Pat also told me that she had given a lot of thought at times to a religious life, yet wasn't inclined toward actually entering a convent. From the little time I knew her, it was clear traditional religious life would not be her cup of tea, or uh, coffee--her preferred (hot) beverage. So we talked about the OMC. That actually fit her better. She had terrible pain in her gut as we talked. The cancer was back. She held her hand over her stomach and her brow winced slightly. Pain. She had been holding her stomach since I first met her, but it was getting more painful each day.
Pat had worked for the diocese of Scranton at the local Guild Shop here in the Poconos. It had closed abruptly and she lost her job. However, it was a job she really loved. She hoped to have a religious shop to offer the local people of the area. We had taken a long "work weekend" away to plan the business. She had a lot of experience to share. This ride we were taking was to look at a building we might use to open just such a shop. As it turned out, we didn't rent that site, but another one, closer to where we all lived. By that time, however, Pat was almost housebound from her cancer because she was getting weaker and weaker. Her nephew, Father Art, was her best friend and devoted nurse, and took her wherever she needed or wanted to go. But time was closing in on her.
The cancer that was eating at Aunt Pat attacked in full force in the Fall of 2005. She finally was admitted to hospice care at home, and Father Art was there each step of the way. Toward the end, he remained with her day and night, with little rest. Friends were in and out. Medical personnel were available as needed and there each day. I was able to spend that last week at her home with them both. It was an honor to be there during that sacred time. At the end, Pat and I talked, and it was clear she wanted to be part of the OMC as a way of giving herself to God intentionally. Pat's life was very much joined with Christ's. She was carrying the cross as we talked. I received her into our community right there in her home, on her deathbed. She was buried with the OMC cross on her chest.
We pray for the grace of a happy death. God granted Aunt Pat such a peaceful passing into the next world. We ask her prayer for us that when we follow, it will be as peacefully.
Thank you, my sister in Christ, Pat, for your goodness shared with so many of us. You loved and were loved. You are still an inspiration.
Mother Cait Finnegan, OMC
In the twilight of life we will be judged on Love. St. John of the Cross
