by James B. Nicola
I heard my mother’s voice today. Thanksgiving
weekend. Ten years this January.
My nephew played a very loving voice
mail message from her he has kept on his
cell phone ten years. My brother said he has
kept three such messages. My nephew said
he had another one and wept awhile.
It made me think of the first time I thought
of leaving the Church. This was long before
the answering machine, voice mail, and cell
phones. I asked her if she actually
believed, for instance, in Life After Death.
She paused then said, “I think it means at least
what loved ones think of you when you are gone.”