Actions DO speak louder than words

Nearing the end of the night, a priest that she knew really well, did the final prayer service. (Let's call him Father John, since I don't remember his name.)

He told us how special Cindy was, and how she was by far the most dedicated cathecist the entire diocese had ever known.

She had a student named Tim that suffered from a severe case of ADD. Apparently, other teachers had not been successful with him, but Cindy was able to reach him. Friday night, the night before she died, she was Tim's confirmation. Everyone knew Cindy wasn't feeling well, and they kept telling her she should go home, but she refused, and would say, "I have to be here for Timmy. I have to be here!"

During the confirmation, Father John looked over at Cindy and said her entire face was just beaming! She was so proud of Tim, and in that moment he understood why she was there. She simply needed to be there.

He continued on, and this is when we had found out that she was considering becoming a nun. He pretty much talked her out of it, and told her all the work she is doing is in God's name. She's already spreading the word of God to these children, and she doesn't need to become a nun to do God's work. (I assume he talked her out of becoming a nun, because he wanted her to find love) After that, she started considering the missionaries.

After the confirmation there was a reception and Cindy attended it, still not feeling well, and obviously sick. She wasn't socializing, or eating, and after much convincing, she finally agreed to the let Father John drive her home.

About a block from her apartment he asked how she was doing and she slurred her words. He was immediately concerned and asked, "Cindy are you sure you are okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just really tired. I just want to home, put my pajamas on and go to sleep."

He watched her get out, and go into her apartment without incident. She didn't stumble or anything, she just walked in.

He finished the prayer service and afterwards, approached the family. When he approached me, I embraced him and crying said, "Thank you. That was beautiful!"

Holding back tears, he apologized to me and said, "I'm sorry. I should've made her go to the hospital - I didn't know."

I cupped his face in my hands and said, "You could've have known. You did nothing wrong."

And I thought I felt guilt. I felt nothing compared to this man.

We went back to the hotel that night, numb. I knew the only reason I would even sleep was from sheer exhaustion. As I layed there, a million questions ran through my mind. I just needed to know if she was okay.

About five minutes after lying there, fully awake, I felt something on my head. I moved my head and then I felt several distinctive pats to the top of my head.

I immediately asked my husband, "Did you just touch my head?"

He said, "No."

After explaining what just happened, he said, "Well you know who that was, don't you?"

I said, "Yea, Cindy was just saying, I love you and I'm okay."

I was dreading the funeral service. No matter what, the music at the church during a funeral, ALWAYS gets to me. But strangely, once the mass got under way, a feeling so powerful and so amazing overcame me. The only word to explain what the feeling is complete and total -peace.

I had never, in my entire life, had a feeling like that, and in that moment I just knew, she was happy.