Kehoe Rodgers: Finding the ‘fine’ in a heartbreaking loss

This is probably the most challenging column I’ve ever written. I've started five different versions so far and didn't like any of them. The one I'm writing now, this one, is influenced by frustration, disappointment, grief, and a terrible feeling of inadequacy.

You see, I want this column to be my best. And I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself to make it better than the rest. I'm worried that I'm not succeeding.

And by not meeting my goal for this column to be the best, it feels like I'm letting Father Gus down.

When I write columns, whether they’re about my family, my schools, my parish, my town, the words tend to flow naturally. There’s a rhythm that occurs, a natural flow that makes me, the writer, feel that I'm on the right track and heading in the right direction.

This time it feels like my GPS has lost its signal and I’m deep in the woods.

Father Gus deserves better. He deserves the absolute best.

I want to honor the man who had such a huge impact on my life and the lives of my mom, my husband, my kids. Without exaggeration, he was a lifeline for me, a light that led me to better places, a stronger faith, and a peaceful life.

He would say those words to me all the time. And he was correct each time.

He would say those words to me frequently. And he was right, every time.

The first time he said those words to me was shortly after my husband and I decided to join St. Patrick Church (my Kehoe family parish since the mid-1800s). I joined St. Francis of Assisi after I got married, but after meeting the Rev. Gus Puleo, pastor of St. Pat’s, well, we felt we belonged with him.

My mom and Father Gus were very close, and through her, we developed a friendship with him. He immediately formed a bond with Matthew. A few months after we joined St. Pat’s, Father Gus told me (note: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to make his First Holy Communion. I thought Matthew would need “training” and education on the sacraments before such a big step. “Doesn’t he need to know things?” I asked Father Gus.

“It will be okay.”

And it was more than okay. On March 17, 2013, in front of the usual 10 a.m. Mass attendees, and my family and Matthew’s teachers from St. Katherine Day School, Father Gus gave Matthew his first Holy Communion. And then received a standing ovation. It was beautiful.

A few years later Father Gus informed me (note again: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to be an altar server. I was concerned that his extra chromosome might be a hindrance, and said to Father Gus, “Doesn’t he have to know things?”

“It will be okay.”

And it was. It was more than okay. From that first Mass together, it was the “Father Gus and Matthew” show on the altar. It wasn’t uncommon to see the two of them whispering to each other, then giggling. There were times Matthew applauded (literally) Father Gus’ sermon, which the congregation, and Father Gus, appreciated. But Father Gus instructed Matthew during the important parts of the Mass, and ensured another altar server oversaw what Matthew was doing. Matthew still imitates ringing the bells during the consecration.

Then, a few years later Father Gus informed me (note again: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to be confirmed. Again, I asked, doesn’t he need to know stuff?

It was okay. It was more than okay.

Father Gus never saw the limitations that would prevent Matthew from doing anything. All he perceived in my son was the pure goodness of God’s love. And Father Gus taught me, through Matthew, that in God’s love, the potential for wonderful things happening is always there — especially for Matthew. You just have to trust. To Father Gus, Matthew was the epitome of God’s love.

It was in 2016 when I experienced the true strength and selflessness of Father Gus. March to be exact. That’s when my husband, in the throes of a brain stem stroke, entered the hospital and died seven days later.

Father Gus was there with us. He sat with me and with my kids and was a calming influence for sure. The day I had to sign the release to remove my husband from life support, I called Father Gus. We knew this day was coming, and so, when he answered his phone, he didn’t say hello. He simply said, “I’m on my way.”

When Father Gus arrived at the hospital, I asked him the one question that kept running through my Catholic head — by signing that release, to remove the breathing tube, was I essentially causing the death of my husband? Father Gus said with conviction and compassion that the breathing machine was keeping my husband alive unnaturally, and by removing it, it would be a natural death. This time he didn’t say “it will be okay.” Father Gus’ words were more profound, “Trust in God’s love; let your faith be your strength.”

After Jim died, Father Gus kept a watchful eye out for me, Kaitlyn, Tommy and especially Matthew. When I shared any concerns I had about my kids and their futures he’d listen, interject a few observations then ultimately say, “It will be okay.”

I came to learn something about that particular phrase. To the untrained ear “it will be okay” may sound trite, a way to brush aside worries. But I knew in my heart that was Father Gus-speak for saying, “I’m on it – I’m praying for you and you must believe things will work out the way they’re supposed to. Just trust in God and don’t worry.” And I believe everyone who knew Father Gus, knew his “speak” as well.

Father Gus, the superhero, appeared over the course of a year by raising $1.67 million single-handedly to reopen the church, which had been closed for a year due to structural issues. But Father Gus understood that the church meant more than just a place for worshipping — St. Pat’s is a beacon in the community, providing support services, faith-based learning, educational programs, and healthcare resources for some of the community’s most vulnerable people. Without St. Pat’s, many individuals would be abandoned.

So Father Gus asked for and ultimately received donations. He reached out to the right people — those he had formed connections with throughout his life, from his childhood in Norristown and Holy Saviour Parish, who were now in a position to help their friend. Donations came from people with no connection to the parish, but who knew Father Gus and were aware of his deep faith and goodness. They also came in from all over the country.

It was extremely impressive.

But I’m concerned that the struggle most likely took a toll on him.

Father Gus dealt with serious health issues, and it wasn’t easy for him to move around. However, he never let his duties as a priest, spiritual leader, and director of the English as a Second Language (ESL) program and the Spanish Department at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary suffer. He persisted bravely and without complaint. He would often say, “What are you going to do?”

Father Gus passed away on April 3, 2024. And his death is heartbreaking. It’s hard to imagine a world without Father Gus – without his laughter, his homilies, his friendship, his support, his guidance and compassion, his dislike for Hallmark movies (but he did like Netflix); and his unwavering love for his parishioners.

As I sat in the pew last Friday morning waiting for his funeral Mass to begin, I thought of all the things Father Gus did for me and my family, and what he meant to our parish family. I have thousands of special memories of Father Gus, but I’m guessing everyone who ever met Father Gus does as well. He had a way of making everyone he connected with feel that they alone held a special place in his heart. And that is as remarkable as he was.

I hope Father Gus knew how much he was loved and appreciated. And that his message “to Jesus through Mary” will be remembered and practiced by his parishioners.

When I broke the news to Matthew that his buddy died, I tried the best way I could to explain what happened. “Father Gus has gone to the place he worked his whole life to get to — heaven. Now he can walk and run and breathe without any problems. He’s the happiest he’s ever been.”

Those were the words coming out of my mouth, but in my mind, and in my heart, I heard the voice of Father Gus….

“It’ll be fine.”

Note: To read the numerous columns written by the Rev. Gus Puleo for The Times Herald and MediaNews Group, simply type his name in the search window of any publication. This (impressive) tagline followed all of his columns:

The Rev. Gus Puleo serves as director of the English as a Second Language (ESL) program and the Spanish Department at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary in Philadelphia, where he also teaches English and Spanish. He is a graduate of Norristown High School and attended Georgetown University, where he received B.A. and B.S. in Spanish and linguistics. He has master’s degrees in Spanish, linguistics, and divinity from Middlebury College, Georgetown University, and St. Charles Borromeo Seminary. He holds a Ph.D. in Spanish from the University of Pennsylvania. He is the former pastor of St. Patrick Church in Norristown.

Contact Cheryl Kehoe Rodgers by sending an email to [email protected].