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I had no plans for relocation until I visited my son eight years ago.

I recall how we never pretended, his Father and I, when we were alone, We discarded the placid masks of expectation, and optimism that made others comfortable. He and I both knew we had begun the process of saying goodbye.

And so it was on one of the last nights when we talked about “afterwards.” My husband explained how he had gotten everything “ready” for me when I began to live alone; the central a/c, the alarm systems, new appliances and the comfortable reassurance of two reliable handymen, Mark and Ted Simonson in case of unexpected household events,

I listened and knew it was true. My beloved had never forgotten his vow to cherish me in the 57 years we shared, Yet he had not anticipated the one thing he could not prevent, the incredible loneliness of an empty house,

And God spared him that. He boarded the ferry shortly after our long conversation, and for 8 years I tried to make his expectation come true. The house remained intact and comfortable, but the loneliness grew and had begun to suffocate me.

When our youngest son suggested relocating to a senior community where his family had relocated, I sold our beloved home and moved on. I have not regretted that choice and always believed my Anam Cara approved,

Yet I never believed I was joining a new family. Yet quietly I had without recognition of any commitment. The small prayer group that meets Thursday and receives Holy Communion has become a vital and inspirational part of my week. We are blessed because of the kindness of a Deacon from a local Church, to receive the sacrament and join in prayer.

However, today there was a distinct difference caused by the absence of one of the regular attendees, Joe Gerovac. An unpretentious man, yet distinguished by his charismatic humor garbed in deep faith, he was an integral part of our circle of believers. Even though I was unaware of my commitment to seven strangers.

Then I learned, Joe, quiet, smiling, and inspirational in humility, died last night. He is at peace, and our small circle has shrunk. Next week when we gather in prayer, his voice will no longer be heard.

And although it was a long time ago, once again I knew the pain of emptiness when others depart. And I learned we can belong to more than one family in a lifetime.