How Anthony wanted to be remembered

Anthony’s gutsy, masculine faith

    You see, Anthony didn’t just say he believed the faith. He didn’t just go through the motions of being Catholic. He believed and lived the Faith.

    Anthony had a gutsy, masculine faith. He was a man’s man, and he evangelized as a man’s man. He didn’t mince his words. He’d say exactly what was on his mind. Sometimes I’d be startled by his bluntness. I would have used a more tender and diplomatic approach.

    But Anthony’s approach was perfect for his field of evangelization: the real world in which men aren’t practicing their faith and don’t want to practice any faith. When Anthony heard a man blaspheme, for example, he’d talk to him in a way the man could understand. Many of those men came to the funeral. They remarked about Anthony’s strong faith and what a witness he was to them. Personally, I had a feeling Anthony was smiling to see them all in Church – a Catholic one, no less!

Anthony was advanced in his spirituality in a way that was uniquely his own.

    He had a practical application of the faith. He told Fr. Edmund Sylvia, C.S.C. over and over during his final two months: “All I want is to be in the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady because that’s the place where I can get closest to the Cross.” That’s profound. You could meditate on that for a long, long time. And at the end that’s precisely where the Lord drew him. I think he definitely died in the Immaculate Heart of Mary. He seemed to have a little sideways smile on his face. Just a little upturn, as if to say, “Aha.” And that was a consolation, too.

    Toward the end Anthony wouldn’t want to take his pills. So sometimes we’d crush his pills and put them in his yogurt or ice cream, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always knew, and he didn’t like that we “tried to pull one over on him.” He’d say, “You put my pills in the ice cream, didn’t you? You realize you’ve spoiled my ice cream.” I’d say, “Well, how about if I put a little more chocolate sauce on it?” And that seemed to resolve the issue.

    Then on Good Friday I called the doctor’s office and said, “I’m having trouble getting his meds into him. Anthony won’t take any pills today.” The physician assistant replied that this happens as the time draws near: “He doesn’t have to take his medication any more.” And my eyes stung with tears.

    As he did every day, Father Ed came on Good Friday to administer the sacraments to Anthony. He remarked on radio and in the homily at the funeral mass that when he looked at Anthony in his bed of pain, he couldn’t help but think, “There lies the Cross, now a bed. The Cross all of us will know in some way or another in our lives.”

    On Easter Sunday, Anthony began his final decline. Father Ed basically moved in with us. Words could never adequately express my gratitude. He really helped us, just as he had helped us get through Simon’s death. Fr. Ed was with us all the way until Anthony drew his last breath, ministering to him and to us. What a grace we received!

Anthony struggled for life for four days.

    Actually it was only his body struggling near the end. I was pretty certain he was experiencing the compassionate love of Jesus and Our Blessed Lady. Nonetheless, it was a hard four days for us as we watched one system after another shut down. In time, his respiration changed and he took his final breaths. It was Wednesday, April 11th.

    Anthony had a beautiful passing. He experienced the grace of a happy death. In her eulogy, our daughter Jessica said, “Simon passed during the Lenten season, a barren, sorrowful season. Dad passed during this victorious Easter season. A season of beauty and life, and I think there’s a real message there to ponder and pray about.”

    On that last day, family and friends had gathered in our home. Around his bed we prayed the Rosary and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. We read to him from Sacred Scripture and religious books. We talked with him. We loved him. Anthony experienced a remarkably beautiful conclusion to his life. It was a wonderful thing to watch at the end. It was difficult, but it was a remarkably beautiful experience to be present when Anthony’s soul left his body.

    We didn’t have that experience with our son Simon, who died in a vehicular collision.

    In those final moments, I was weeping. I looked at Anthony and said, “Honey, tears are streaming from my eyes. I’m weeping. But my heart is filled with such joy because very shortly you will behold the face of God. I’m so happy for you. I love you.”

    You’re probably wondering how I could feel any joy at all during Anthony’s passing. I’ve found that joy is the pearl of great price that’s sewn into the garment of suffering. And that’s what I was experiencing then. It’s a paradox this mixture of joy and sorrow. But God promises us His grace is sufficient. And so it is.

    Indeed, Anthony experienced the grace of a happy death. He had a deep devotion to St. Joseph whose intercession we repeatedly sought asking for this grace. The Blessed Sacrament was reposed before Anthony and relics of St. Faustina, Blessed Brother Andre of Montreal, Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos, and a sliver of the True Cross were displayed near him. Fr. Ed saw to it that he died with the sacraments of the Church and Viaticum.

    The funeral Mass was beautiful. There were 8 priests and 3 deacons at the altar. Father Ed’s homily was remarkable.