9) Forgive Me Father

I spent the rest of that summer going to Open Mics. 

As my confidence was growing, one week I dared to try out some bolder material.

I knew it was a joke I would never say in an actual show but had just had to test it out. As soon as I said the line I hated it.

A few days went by and the joke still bothered me.

I don’t know why but I decided to go to confession.

For those of who don’t know what confession is, it’s when you go tell a priest what you’ve done wrong and then all is forgiven.

My approach to confession is more of a When in Rome type of thing as the only times I went to confession as an adult were at the Vatican.

Going to confession was not at the top of my to-do list while on vacation. But my persuasive sister convinced me to do it.

“We have to go,” she said. “Did you know that if you go to confession at the Vatican you’re good for ten years?”

“Ten years?!? Are we going to confession or getting a tetanus shot?”

“No seriously. We have to,” she insisted.

“But I don’t want to. I hate the part where we have to say how long it's been since our last confession.”

My sister, rolling her eyes, said, “Who cares? Just lie.”

I was even less enthused about going to confession here in the States after Open Mic because I knew that the priest would speak English and therefore understand what I was saying and that afterwards I wouldn’t get to enjoy an authentic dish of spaghetti carbonara.

But deep down I knew it was time to have a conversation with a priest.

I found a church down the shore far enough away from home. When it was finally my turn I entered the small room where the priest was sitting. There was no screen-it was face to face. I wanted to run right out of there, but I knew I couldn’t put this conversation off any longer.

I recited my lines that I practiced in my car, mumbling through most parts of it.

At last I told him the joke that I wasn’t proud of.

The good news is the priest didn't think my joke was a sin.

The bad news is the priest didn’t think my joke was funny.

Once we got that awkwardness out of the way I opened up about the real reason I was there.

I knew in my heart that the joke wasn’t that bad. But I used it as an excuse to get to the bottom of what I was feeling.

I was just so angry at God.

I remember having that gut feeling something was wrong and praying that John would be ok.

“Just bring him home,” I pleaded.

He didn’t.

All of my life I’ve heard people talk about the power of prayer. Why weren’t mine good enough?

After John died I stopped going to church for a long time. And even now I still don’t really pray.

To me praying to God for something is like texting my parents.

I never get an answer back.

I explained to the priest what happened to John and the pain I’ve felt ever since.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I grinned realizing that here I was sitting in confession and the priest was apologizing to me.

Then the priest said one of my least favorite things people say to grievers.

“You know he’d want you to be happy.”

“Well I want him to be alive. So looks like neither of us will get what we want.”

I asked him about one of my biggest fears which I’m warning you unless you’ve been in my shoes will sound completely irrational.

“How’s it work up there? Like what happens if I do meet someone else and maybe even get married one day, will I still get to see John again?”

I already lost John once. I can’t bear the thought of the risk of losing him again.

To my relief the priest nodded as if he asked this all the time. 

“Well you know there’s no such thing as marriage in Heaven,” he said.

“No, I’ve never heard that.”

The priest offered a long explanation. I didn’t fully understand his explanation and I’m not sure I completely buy it, but I’m glad I was able to talk to him. I felt a little lighter and realized that comedy has helped me let go a little bit of my anger towards God.

As I stood up to leave I had one other thought I wanted to share with him.

“Hey, you know that thing you said about there being no marriage in Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“I think you guys should publicize that more.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because. If it was known that there was no marriage in Heaven, well,  I think more people would try to get in.”