When the Heart Heals

Discovering Wisdom Through Challenging Relationships

Bob Olson is the host of Afterlife TV and author of Answers About The Afterlife, Insight from Hindsight, and The Magic Mala. He’s also the founder of the top directory of reputable psychics and mediums, BestPsychicDirectory.com.

Photo by selcuk s on Unsplash

This story illustrates universal wisdom about relationships. Ultimately, the insight I’m sharing may help you understand the most challenging relationships in your life. It establishes that with a little communication, even if awkward, we may realize our perspective of a situation affecting the relationship is in error.

Sometimes, the best way to express a valuable insight about life is to demonstrate it through a story. This story involves two characters in their sixties: Dave and Father Burke. Dave met Father Burke during an extended stay in the hospital, where Burke was the hospital chaplain. Over time, the two became close friends and stayed in touch even after Dave was released from the hospital. This story begins a few weeks after Dave’s release.

St. Vincent’s Hospital

Dave visited St. Vincent’s Hospital to see his friend, Father Burke. He checked the chapel, but he wasn’t there. He went to the third floor to say hello to the nurses. Nurse Paula told him that the chaplain was attending to a patient who was soon to pass away in Room 305.

A few minutes later, Father Burke emerged from the room looking somber. Paula ran back into the room to check on the patient. Upon seeing Dave, the minister’s face lit up.

“You okay, Father?” asked Dave as they shook hands.

“Oh yeah. That’s a part of this calling that is meaningful but never enjoyable.” He paused. “What are you doing here today?”

Dave placed his hand on the minister’s back, and they walked toward the elevators.

“I’m here to see you. Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?”

“Hardly anyone goes out in the courtyard,” Burke noted. “Want to go down there?”

The men took the elevator down to the first floor, making small talk on the way.

“Summer’s almost over. Can you believe it?” asked Dave.

“I know. Every time I turn around, it’s Friday again. The weeks are flying by, and I’ve spent most of my days in this hospital. I need to get out more.”

The men sat on a concrete bench in the outdoor courtyard, filled with flowers, ferns, and birds. Burke took a whiff of a butterfly bush reaching out toward him.

“What’s on your mind, David?”

“Well, when you told me the story of how your father left you with your mother’s parents after she died giving birth to you, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I believe you said that you never saw your father again and that you had been told he was homeless and addicted to alcohol. Is that accurate?”

Burke’s head was cocked as he tried to figure out where Dave was going with this.

“Yes, my mother died giving birth to me, after which my father left me with my mother’s parents. My grandparents were wonderful parents to me, but I always longed for a relationship with my biological father. Unfortunately, I was never able to meet him. I later learned that he had drunk himself into isolation and homelessness. Why do you mention it, Dave?”

“Well, I recognized that I might be able to get some information about him due to my connections. Remember how I told you that I owned an advertising agency?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, my business partner, who ran the agency from day to day, bought my half of the business after Margie died. Well, he contacted me yesterday. I called him a few weeks ago because we used to donate a lot of money to the homeless shelters in the city back in the day. He’s still involved with those shelters, so he continues to have connections with the people who manage them. He did me a favor and checked to see if anyone with your last name ever came into the shelters. He learned that a George Burke frequents the shelter on South Main Street.”

Burke gasped. “That’s my father’s name.”

“Yes, well, I visited there last night when George is known to show up for supper, and he was there. I talked with him. He’s an older man now, eighty-nine, but he’s as sharp as a tack. He’s also sober. He lives out of a halfway house in that area.”

The minister stared at the flowers, his hands held tightly to his knees. Dave couldn’t understand what he was thinking, so he continued talking.

“I told him you’re my friend and asked if he had any interest in meeting you. He does, quite sincerely. He cried the moment I mentioned your name and never really stopped the whole time we talked. I told him you didn’t know anything about me looking for him. And while I apologize if I’ve stuck my nose where it doesn’t belong, I hope you’ll know that my intentions come from my heart.”

Father Burke’s face was now soaked in tears, and his entire body quivered. He had to gather himself to be able to talk. When he could speak, he looked up at Dave.

“My friend, you know me well enough to understand that I have craved answers and closure in this area of my life for decades. That’s the reason for my weepiness. My shaking hands, on the other hand, communicate my fear of being hurt again. I felt a deep hurt from my father’s actions.”

After a pause to catch his breath, he continued. “This is something I’ve always needed, so I’m thankful for your actions. Naturally, I’m scared, but I would like to meet with my father. Quite frankly, I thought that opportunity was gone. I can hardly believe he’s still alive.”

With that thought, Father Burke let out his emotions. Dave held his friend as he sobbed. When there were no more tears to cry, Dave sat with him while he thought about the prospect of meeting his father.

As the two men sat quietly in the courtyard garden, Nurse Paula walked into the courtyard, looking for them.

“Hey, Father. Don’t mean to interrupt your discussion, but someone else has requested last rites. It’s been one of those days.”

Dave asked, “Do they still call it last rites?”

“That was a Catholic phrase from the past. Most Christians call it ministration to the sick or ministry with the sick.I usually call it praying with the sick. We don’t say ministry to the dying because you never know. I’ve prayed with people who thought they were dying only to see them walk out of the hospital two weeks later and live long lives.”

Dave nodded with a smile.

The minister stood up and grabbed Dave’s hand, looking him in the eyes.

“I’m scared, but I’m grateful. You’re a good friend for investigating his whereabouts for me,” he said, patting his friend’s hand.

Father Burke and Paula walked back through the hospital doors while Dave stayed in the courtyard. He used the moment to visualize a healing meeting between Jonathan Burke and his father, George.

South Main Street Shelter

Father Burke parked in front of the shelter, his hands trembling on the steering wheel. He squeezed his hands together, hoping to stop them. It didn’t help. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the door.

He entered the shelter and walked into the dining hall, where Dave had arranged for him and George to meet. It was mid-morning, and the dining hall was empty except for a few cleaning people. There were several round tables, each with six chairs.

Burke had wondered how he would recognize the father he’d never seen, yet he knew him the second he laid eyes on him. George was seated alone at one of the tables; nevertheless, he could have picked him out of a busy crowd. It was like looking at himself in twenty years.

Every step he took toward the man, his heart beat faster. He thought about turning around and leaving but knew he’d always regret it. After a few more steps, he realized it was too late to turn back.

“George?” he asked as he walked up to the man. He noticed his father’s hands were shaking, too.

George stood up and held his hand out. Burke stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, This is really happening. After sixty-six years, I’m finally meeting my father.

He shook George’s hand. There was an awkward quietness that seemed to last forever. After a few moments, Father Burke broke the silence.

“Well, I guess I was the one who asked to meet you, so I might as well begin. You know, I knew for years what I would say to you if I ever saw you, but suddenly it all feels wrong. You look, well...old.”

The two men laughed loudly.

“My goodness, you haven’t changed a bit, Jonathan,” his father said, chuckling.

His comment confused the minister. “What do you mean? How would you know anything about me?”

“Son…” Suddenly, George got scared. “I’m sorry. I call young people that.”

“No, it’s fine. You may call me son.”

Burke’s eyes welled up with tears as the simple meaning of what he was saying sunk in.

“Oh, thank you.” George’s eyes also got watery. “The truth is that I watched you grow up, although always from a distance. Your grandparents, I mean, your parents, would let me know if you would ever be anywhere I could see you. I watched you at the park and the Boys Club when you were little. I saw you play baseball from when you were seven right up through high school, at least whenever you played somewhere I could reach by walking.” He chuckled. “I might have lived to this old age because you had me walking all over the city.”

Burke tried to swallow his tears, but they just kept coming. He needed clarification.

Burke sat down on the chair next to his father. “If you attended those events, why didn’t you ever let me know? I would have liked to know. I thought you didn’t care, didn’t love me.”

George looked down at the ground, unable to look his son in the eyes.

“All right, since we’re doing this, I assume you want the truth, right?”

“The truth would be nice, yeah,” said the minister.

George talked slowly. “Okay, the truth. The truth is that I was sleeping in a cardboard box. I had no money. Strangers told me I smelled.”

George choked up but quickly contained his emotions.

He continued. “I was drunk most of the time, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. I didn’t want you to know who your dad was. I preferred you to think I was dead than to know the truth. I didn’t want you growing up thinking you might be anything like me.”

Father Burke looked around the room. His breathing was heavy. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to yell at his father or hug him.

“I was weak,” continued George. “I’ve been weak most of my life. My father even told me I was weak when I was a boy. Your mother was the opposite. She was brave and bright-eyed. She was smart. She knew how to keep me sober. But I was codependent. When she died, I didn’t know how to deal with my grief. I didn’t know how to deal with life. And I certainly didn’t know how to raise a little boy.”

George had to catch his breath before he picked up again.

“She was always the breadwinner. I was a phony. We both pretended I was more than I was. When she died giving birth to you, I brought you to her parents. That was the smartest thing I ever did aside from marrying your mother. I knew it was right. They knew it. Everybody who knew me knew it.”

They sat for a moment without talking. When Burke’s anxiety subsided, he moved his chair closer to his father to say what he needed to say.

“I always thought you gave me away because she died giving birth to me. I thought you blamed me. I was sure you didn’t love me, even though Mom’s parents said otherwise. I figured they had to say that. I couldn’t invent one logical reason why any father would do what you did. As I got older, people told me you were homeless. They told me you drank. I didn’t care. All I ever wanted from you was love.”

He gathered himself before saying more.

“I was so angry with you . . . and I hated the way that anger made me feel. I hated myself for hating you. When I got older, maybe twenty years ago, I assumed you were dead. I was driving down Interstate 295 and knew I had to release my anger. I had to forgive you. Not for you as much as for myself. I needed to release that burden of hating you. I did not know where you were buried, so I drove to the nearest cemetery.

I pulled in and exited my car in front of a giant statue of Saint Francis of Assisi. I fell to my knees and talked to the statue like I was talking to you. Right there, as I kneeled on the ground, I forgave you. I truly forgave you in my heart. All my old hatred and anger were released at that moment. And now you are in front of me, and I still feel no anger at you. I’m sixty-six years old, and all I need is for my father to love me.”

Father Burke burst out sobbing. The reunited father and son held one another as they each trembled after their cathartic confessions. For nearly thirty minutes, they held one another for the first time since Jonathan was born more than six decades earlier.

When they were both exhausted from all the emotion, George held his son’s hands and said, “I know I have a strange way of showing it, but I never blamed you for what happened to your mom. I have always loved you. That’s why I watched you grow up every opportunity I could.”

George and Jonathan spent a couple of hours together. They caught up on each other’s lives as best they could, and they arranged to see one another the following week so the minister could show his father the chapel where he worked. They departed that day as completely different men than the two who had entered the shelter just a few hours earlier.

When Father Burke got back into his car, he was numb from the release and purging that had just occurred. It took him ten minutes before he was ready to turn the ignition key. As he drove away, he thought to himself, Dave was right. The stories I invented as a boy were all wrong. Thank you, God and Jesus, for allowing me to learn the truth before one of us died.

On his way home, Burke drove by an ice cream shop and pulled over for a cone. He felt like a boy again, so it seemed appropriate. He licked his cone, grateful for what had just happened and in awe of the complexities of life, which he was still learning about.

A little boy appeared in front of the minister, pointing at him. Father Burke didn’t understand what he wanted, so the boy walked closer, now pointing at the Father’s chest. Burke saw that he had dripped ice cream onto his shirt. The boy then held his own ice cream cone above his shirt and let it drip all over it. He looked up at the minister with a mischievous grin. Burke mimicked the boy, covering his own shirt with more drips of ice cream. The boy screamed in enthusiasm and ran back toward his parents.

The minister finished his cone, got back in his car, and drove home with a shirt covered in ice cream and a second chance at having the boyhood he had always wanted.

Thanks for reading my story. Please share in the comments how your heart healed after a problematic relationship. Have a great week!

With love,
Bob

PS, This story, plus the beginning of Dave and Father Burke’s relationship, is told in my book, The Magic Mala.

Bob Olson is the host of Afterlife TV, the author of Answers about the Afterlife, Insight from Hindsight, and The Magic Mala, and the creator of the most trusted directory of psychics, mediums, animal communicators, and energy healers, BestPsychicDirectory.com.