You could say that it was coming to the end of a ballgame or the the final act of a broadway play. But NO one could ever have scripted my final days here in Europe as the way occurred....
It was Friday about noon and my friend Helena picked me up on the street corner as I had just checked out of my room which faced the plaza of "Our Lady of the Pilar" Basilica in Zaragoza, Spain. Thousands were expected for the Good Friday observance. I...decided to get out of town.
So I jumped in the car and off we went. Where? Well, we were going to see my friend Father John, who had passed away back in 2004 and was buried in a very small..I mean small town in a northern part of Aragon, Spain.
It seems like we drove.....and drove and drove....It was a beautiful clear day and you could see flat green lands and mountain tops covered with snow. We were actually very close to France..so they signs read..
But we were on a mission and Helena the great friend that she is drove three hours from Madrid just to pick me up so we could find him.
Along the way, we stopped for coffee and we talked. I drove and Helena was the navigator..She worked the front seat of her car as a fierce navigator..studying several maps so that we would arrive prior to sundown.
And so about 4:30 or so...we came along to a sign that read "Peralta de la Sal". We finally got here... we pulled over on the road and like kids...I walked up to the street sign and Helena took a picture of me...I then rolled over in tall green grass...I was in heaven...it was like a painted picture. The grass was green, the rolling hills....it was beautiful warm spring day.
We drove into town, trying to locate the cemetary, again before nighfall..and so Helena saw the cemetary from a distance on a hill overlooking the valley. We drove up to the hill and enterted the cemetary.
Cemetaries here are a bit different.They can be traditional graves or mausoleums...Helena actually found Father John´s headstone. It was at the top of a mausoleum wall. I actually made it here! I had been wanting to come so bad...He had done so much for the community, The Wall-Las Memorias and for me. He had said several funeral masses for most of my family. Now this was one way to say thank you.
He took risks....he did things that other clergy would not do and many times he paid the price for it. He once told me that because of the enormous groundwork that had been laid in the area of HIV/AIDS awareness by The Wall-Las Memorias Project that the Archdiocese decided to move the office of AIDS ministry to St. Camilus on the east side of town. He was involved with many causes and embraced his roots. He loved the Mexican-American culture, it's food and music.
As a board member, he once went with me to a meeting with the Dodgers and told the Dodger officials that it was the very first time that he had ever stepped in the stadium, particulalry since the city had kicked his family out of Chavez Ravine. He claimed that his familys home had been at 3rd base. He cares about his community.
So I came here to pray for him and to thank him for so all he had done for us and the community. I do not know of anyone who has been able to visit him. His memorial service in Los Angeles was very impressive. It left a huge impression on me...and I have to say, that I was a bit disappointed with the family and some of his close friends for failing to menion the fact that he was an AIDS activist and even a board member of our agency. But, that is ok..I really do miss him...he was one good friend and a priest that I could relate to in a very deep spìritual level. But for today I was able to be close to him again, even for a few moments.
I turned to Helena and told her...look...this man...so great to so many people and yet he is buried so far over here in Spain...so remote...no one will ever visit him..and her response to me was.. "you know Richard, it is not where you are buried, it is who and for what you are remembered for...he left a huge impact on your life or you would not be here...right?". She was so right....He impacted thousands of people....
I wanted to bring flowers to his site...but in a small town in Spain...no flower shops to be had....so my dear friend, Helena..went out to the hillside and picked some fresh flowers...I was so moved by that gesture...her generousity and tremendous love for me and for what I believe in...are beyond words. I took several photos so I could present them to his family. I hope John is happy and pleased with the photos that I took of him...(he was alway´s a ham).
Following the visit, we went into town looking for the monastary. We actually went in circles for some time...but we finally got it right and it was in the middle of town. We walked in looking for Father Jesus...the rector, but he was not in. He was expecting me on Saturday morning. So we waited around for some time..
A man came to greet us....his name was Juan and he gave us a tour of the place when a woman in her sixties and a priest by the name of Father Thadeus was introduced to us. When they found out that I was from Los Angeles and I was there to visit John, they were very happy. They said that he was a great man and well liked by the people of the local pueblo. Father Thadeus was very fond of John and when I asked if I could take some photos...he not only obliged, but organized the group photo.
It was becoming nightfall and we had no place to sleep, so I we had to leave. Father Thadeus wanted us to stay and offered to find us a place..but we refused. He insisted that we tour his garden and so we went oustide and as we said good bye, he looked a bit sad....he said that it was a pleasure to meet us and that he would send some photos of John so that we could pass them along to the family....we thanked him again. Then with a quick stare, he told us...."you know, I believe in divine providence". I responded, so do I... We both were chilled at the comment but we knew that the meaning was much more profound than one could ever expect. And as we walked away, he stared at us and then into the sky.
Father Thadeus who was about 90 or so was a very deep spritual man who was happy that we visisted John and stayed around to meet him. This was a very powerful expereince. Their were no words to describe what we felt in our short exchange of words with him.
We drove towards Lleida which was about an hour and a half away. We still talked about the experince and were overjoyed that both of us had experienced something magical.
When the world remembered a civil rights activist who was crucified on the cross, we came to Peralta de la Sal to remember the activist who was born among the hills that are now known as Chavez Ravine and passed from us and is buried in a small town in northern Spain, he is in our hearts forever....
