Everything Happens For A Reason

Living past the death of a loved one, especially when the loved one is someone like Fr. Michael Sepp, is sometimes hard to deal with. On the one hand, we all know we were lucky to have him for as long as we did; but on the other hand, we feel cheated. Many of us feel like he was the last person who should have died. After all, he did so much good and was so dedicated to helping others. I'm certainly not nearly as giving as my brother was, yet here I am.

What is the reason why God took Micheal? It's certainly hard to fathom. But I think time will tell. Many believe that Michael can do even more good work in the spiritual realm. He certainly wasn't afraid of death and in some ways even embraced it. Maybe he was preparing himself for more good work. In any case, I'd like to believe that all this has happened for a good reason.

It's something that I have come to believe in the year or so since Mike was diagnosed with cancer. The thought of him dying or suffering often brought me to tears and frustrated me so much because I just couldn't get my mind around it.

One of the things that had happened as a result of Michael's vehement dedication to his priesthood (and consequently, his parishioners) was that Michael became slightly more distant from the family. This was not because he was alienating us intentionally, but simply because the level at which he was determined to serve his community required a great deal of attention. This was especially true at Sacred Heart, which is a tremendous parish with a large school. He simply didn't have the time for us that he once had.
However, the treatments that followed his diagnosis with terminal cancer, were frequent and long. He often needed company when receiving transfusions or chemotherapy. I say "needed" but it was mostly "wanted" I think and when I look back at this, despite the horrific impetus behind it all, I cherish these treatments. They were often long and in the middle of the day. He had to get there during rush hour and stay for hours on end, but these hours were precious time that I had and many of my siblings had - and even my mother had on one or two occasions - to spend with our beloved Michael.

Now, I've been unemployed for a very long time. In fact, I started my bout with poverty and unemployment just after Michael was diagnosed. It occurred to me that though this seemed very much like a curse (I was newly married and struggling to start a life with my wife and despite a fairly good education found myself bored and jobless) it was actually a blessing. Maybe God knew that this was going to be the way that Michael and I could reconnect. That I would have an opportunity to learn things from this man who had so much to say yet had so few opportunities to share things with me. One of my sisters lives in Connecticut and she, for reasons of geography as well as her own familiar obligations, was also underemployed during this time. This just so happened to open up many opportunities for her to attend Mike in these last precious moments before he finished his earthly "assignment".

Sometimes what seems like a curse or a misfortune might just be a tiny part of God's big plan.

I Feel Selfish for Wanting Him to Stay Here Longer

The grief that accompanies death is difficult to subdue. I don't think anyone who's lost someone they truly love feels happy after they die. Even those with the greatest faith feel a sense of loss when a family member or great friend passes on to their heavenly reward.

In my case, I not only felt sad but I often felt selfish in the days surrounding my brother's death. I knew he'd accepted death and was not afraid of it. He didn't view death as an end and he "welcomed" it, as he often said.

Despite his embracing view of death, I was still hoping for a miracle for Michael. When I thought about why, the main reason was that I wanted to have him around longer because he was just such a great guy. He was a person I could go to for advice on things both spiritual and temporal because he was a great gauge of what was right and what was wrong. He had lived among so many for so long, and he had seen so much goodness combined with so much badness that he simply knew much more than the average person. I think now that maybe I was being selfish. I wanted Mike to be around to help me make decisions. Maybe he felt he had made enough. He was tired of making decisions and was ready to move on.

I am sad - selfish as this may be - for the fact that my unborn children will not know him. Assuming God grants me the gift of offspring, I'll be the only sibling with children who were not baptized by my brother; that one especially hurts me because I think it's such a privilege to have been baptized by a man like Fr. Michael Sepp.