Page 112 of My Heart Still Beats
I don’t know Father Johnson. I’ve never seen him before, but he seems to know my father well. As a child, I often heard him say to my mother, “It’s in God’s hands now, Carly.” He’d give his pain and suffering over to God so easily.
Something I can’t do. Don’t want to do.
Murmurs ofAmensurround me, but I can’t bring myself to say the word.
“I’d like to invite Dan’s brother, Josh, up to say a few further words.”
My uncle, who looks a lot like my father—same brown hair and blue eyes—rises and walks to the altar.
“Thank you, Father.” He looks at us in the front row. “Carly, Tessa, Eva, family and friends. Today, we gather here to remember my dear brother, Dan, a man of unwavering faith and a source of inspiration for all who knew him. As we reflect on his life, I can’t help but recall some of the wonderful and humorous moments we shared together.
“You see, growing up with Dan wasn’t just about learning the catechism. It was also about learning the art of mischief. Dan had a unique talent for finding adventure in the most unexpected places. I remember one time, when we were kids, we decided to sneak into the church pantry and sample some of the communion wafers. We thought we were being discreet, but Father Doug caught us red-handed. He gave us a lecture we’d never forget about respect for the Eucharist. Dan, being Dan, turned it into a life lesson about the importance of our faith.”
My uncle’s words hit me with the force of a blow to the head. I remember that story. Da told me about it before my first communion. I never thought about it again after…
I never thought much about my first communion again.
Not until now.
What if I had remembered what happened with the altar boy? What if I’d told Mommy and Da? Would Da have lost his faith? Or would he have put it in God’s hands? Would he have confronted the altar boy? Would he have—
My uncle’s voice interrupts my racing mind.
“As we mourn his passing, we remember Dan not just as a devout man but as a loving husband, father, brother, a loyal friend, and someone who could find joy and laughter even in the most challenging moments. He showed us that faith isn’t just about seriousness. It’s about finding joy in the journey, even when the road is rocky.
Those words. It’s almost as if Da is saying them to me. I can even hear his voice inside me.
It’s about finding joy in the journey, angel, even when the road is rocky.
“May his soul rest in eternal peace. Amen.”
“Amen.”
This time I say it, and I remember Da for how he was. His humor, his faith, his love for me, Mommy, and Eva. Even for Nana. She was Mommy’s mother, not his, but he loved her so much.
Communion follows.
It’s been ages since I took communion. Not since high school. And now that I recall what happened before my first communion? I don’t want to have anything to do with it.
But the Eucharist meant a lot to Da. He always said it reminded him that though he was imperfect, he was still able to commune with God by taking a meal with Him.
So I walk to the altar, following Mommy, and I take the wafer and the wine.
For Da.
I do it for Da.
I’m forever grateful when the service is over.
Except now comes the most difficult part.
Watching as my father is lowered into the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ben
I steer clear of Tessa after the Mass. Only family and close friends go to the gravesite. Braden and Skye are going, but I choose not to. I’d go if I thought it would help Tessa, but she and I haven’t had hardly any communication since she went to stay at her mother’s, and that was nearly a week ago. I’ve texted her a few times to check in, and her responses have always been short and polite.
