As I mentioned in last week’s column, I have been reflecting for some time on a view of death that Father Ronald Rolheiser wrote about in his spiritual masterpiece “Sacred Fire: A Vision for a Deeper Human and Christian Maturity” (New York: Image, 2014, pp. 344, $25.00). 

Father Rolheiser suggested that our death may be the most important gift that we offer people. In last week’s column, I reflected on the death of my mother, father, and sister. I believe that they were very holy people, and though I still pray for them, I also pray to them. 

As examples of deaths that have been great gifts to me, I have been thinking of my two closest priest friends: Thomas McGloin and George Deas. I met both of them in 1952. 

Tom was a classmate, and George became my confessor and spiritual director. My friendship with each spanned approximately 70 years. Tom died on June 4, 2022; George died on May 10, 2023. The terminal illnesses that took their lives lasted several months. 

When I met Tom in my first year of college we found that we had similar senses of humor and very quickly became friends. I think Tom’s readiness to joke and share a laugh may have distracted people from perceiving how intelligent he was. When given an opportunity, Tom could excel academically but also was very gifted in his perception of people. 

I was sent by my bishop to get a doctorate in philosophy. He hoped I could teach at Cathedral College of the Immaculate, which he was planning to build. I was given three years in which my only obligation was to study and write so that I might get the doctorate. 

While a parish priest, Tom, without taking any time off from his parish duties and his involvement with parishioners, got a doctorate in religious education from New York University. Anyone who has been involved in studying for a doctorate knows what Tom accomplished is almost impossible. 

When my sister, at the age of 35 with two small children, learned that she had a terminal disease, she immediately phoned Tom at his rectory and went and made her confession to him. I recall that Tom told me my sister said, “I am ready to accept whatever God sends me, but I have never been so frightened in my life.” My sister died within a week of their meeting. During the last few months of his life, Tom told me that he often found himself thinking about my father, mother, and sister. He was very close to all three. I am so sorry that I never responded to his comment. I wish he and I could talk about why those memories of my family came to him frequently as he approached death. 

Tom was one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. The last time I saw Tom, instead of offering some greeting, Tom immediately asked me about a friend of mine who was seriously sick. I thought that was amazing and revealed so much of how Tom was dealing with his own death. On his death bed Tom was concerned about someone else’s health! Tom’s unselfishness on his deathbed was typical of the unselfishness that was evident throughout his entire life. 

Tom died about an hour after I left him. His death, like his life, was a beautiful gift to me. 

George Deas’ room at the Immaculate Conception Center was right next to mine, so I could easily visit him. 

Throughout my priestly life, I had been depending on George to help me with any problem that I experienced. 

For years he helped me battle anxiety. I had complete confidence in George’s goodness and wisdom. He helped me with some of the most important decisions in my life. 

About a week before he died, George said to me something like, “You are going to be fine. Your strongest asset is your intelligence. You can handle any anxiety or any other problems that come your way.” 

What was George doing but offering for the last time the gift of his friendship, his intelligence, his priestly presence, and encouraging me not to be frightened when I would have to live without his support and encouragement? I knew that was what George was doing, and I think George knew that I knew what he was doing, though neither of us explicitly articulated what was going on between us. It was a very touching moment for me. What a magnificent gift George was giving me in the last days of his life. As I am writing about this conversation, I can recall that expression on George’s face which revealed to me what was going on between us. 

Father Rolheiser believes that the most important gift that someone can give is the gift of the person’s death. 

How blessed I was to have Tom and George as close friends.