A saint revealed while dying

My favorite part of Thornton Wilder's "Our Town" is a dialogue between Emily and the Stage Manager where Emily asks, "Does anyone ever realize life while they live it...every, every minute." Then the Stage Manager replies, "No; the saints and the poets, they do...maybe some."

I remember thinking, as a teenager first hearing those lines, that I'd better be a poet or artist of some kind because I really wanted to live life and I didn't think sainthood was an option. What I didn't know at the time was that I would one day meet the man who spoke those important words. Spalding Gray played the Stage Manager in the revival that played at the Lyceum Theater in New York City. This version was recorded and aired on television and I watched.

Spaulding later married Kathie Russo and I married Kathie's younger brother, Peter. Spalding was uncle to my two children and his children are the adored cousins of my girls.

Spalding was best known for his monologues about everyday life. His monologues were brilliant.  He was tortured by a brain injury and depression which led to his tragic suicide in 2004.

Despite her grief, Kathie was able to put together a final monologue. It's called "Stories Left to Tell." This monologue is performed by a group of actors who each take on a different part of Spalding's life. I've seen this performance several times since it opened in 2005. This past fall it came to the Egg in Albany and I was reminded once again of Spalding's brilliance.

In "Stories Left to Tell," we hear in Spalding's words the times he experienced "perfect moments." These moments include swimming in icy cold water, sharing a beer with his father and enjoying an everyday dinner with Kathie and the kids.

Each time I see this performance, I think that Spalding did get to realize life every day while he lived it. By knowing Spalding I realize I met the poet of whom Thornton Wilder was speaking.

I never expected to know a saint, but that all changed during the past year.

In the fall of 2008, my friend Anne moved her sister Laura from Cleveland, Ohio, to Niskayuna to die. Through a series of insurance errors and medical mishaps, Laura, a single mother of four, was dying of stage-four breast cancer. She was given a prognosis of two months.

I met Laura on a crisp fall day. Another friend held a pumpkin- painting party to welcome Laura and her family to town. I remember seeing Laura, a tall, beautiful woman, surrounded by her four cherub-like daughters. She looked serene and happy - not the image I had of a dying person.

Through excellent medical care, Laura did not die last December. Rather, she was given one glorious year with us.

She showed her friends and family how much little things could mean. Shopping at the grocery store, making your own bed, packing a healthy lunch for your child were wonderful things to her, dreaded to some of the rest of us.

I was most impressed last winter, as all of our children took ice skating lessons, with how much she looked forward to the free skate time with her daughters. She had every reason to fear it: Chemo and other medicines had weakened her bones.

I, on the other hand, have strong bones but loathe the "free skate" session. The skates never fit right, my ankles wobble, I fall, it's embarrassing and it hurts. I watched from the sides as Laura went around and around the rink, encouraging her girls, her nieces and sometimes my daughter.

In the first week of Advent Laura's health declined dramatically. Soon, she was in the hospital. I had the privilege of spending Advent with her. Even as she lay dying, she took in every ordinary moment of life and savored it.

Like all of us, Laura faced challenges. There were many situations that some would find unforgiveable, but Laura was able to let go of the anger. Truly, she was a person who saw the good in everyone and tried to draw out that goodness.

During her final days, there were conversations about her favorite saints and Scripture passages. She requested that she be able to receive communion with her two sisters. It was a beautiful moment. She would remind those of us who were despairing that we needed to trust in Jesus - with trust in God, there was no reason to fear.

When she died early in the morning on Dec. 7, her sister reported her face lit up like she was seeing a glorious sight. The priest who ministered to her during her final year said in his homily at her funeral that he truly believes Laura is a saint. I agree.

After knowing both Spalding and Laura, I will once again strive to truly live life every moment of every day - even if that moment involves me falling on the ice during free skate.

(Ms. McGuinness lives in Niskayuna with her family and is a regular correspondent for The Evangelist.)

01/14/10 [[In-content Ad]]