A Story of my Grandfather.

Joe Cosgriff, as I said in an entry back in June, was not always an easy man to deal with. Not generally an easy man to deal with, I suppose. Still, he had his strengths, and I believe that one of them was his religion. He never missed Mass, and I could tell from certain talks that we had that religion was an important part of his life.

He swore a bit, usually just an "aw, Hell," at something. But I noticed early on that he never used the Lord's name in vain, to the point that he chewed out a guy in his shop one day for using the exclamation, "O Lord!" I respect that; it's the kind of consideration I think we, even, sadly, me, no longer give to the Almighty.

One story sticks out in my mind more than any other. Joe (for reasons I'll discuss another time, he wanted everyone, even his kids and grandkids, to call him Joe, so I'm going to call him Joe from now on) was telling me about a friend of his from his younger days in Illinois. The man had contracted the cancer, as they often called it back when the tale occurred. It was at that time a death sentence.

Joe went on to say that the guy had decided that with nothing to look forward to, he would kill himself. He was laying in bed one night when he had decided that, Joe said between puffs on a cigarette.

Suddenly there was a bright light outside the window. The light came into the room, Joe explained, and settled at the foot of the man's bed. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but he heard what it said loud and clear. "Don't do it. Live out your life." When the light had gone he, the man had told Joe a few days later, realized that he had been visited by the Virgin Mary. He would not kill himself, but would take what was left of his life as the gift it was.

"You know what I think?" Joe asked me, drawing once more on his Carlton.

"What, Joe?" I replied.

That old man looked me dead in the eye, and with the greatest seriousness I had ever heard in his voice said, "I believe he saw the Virgin Mary."

I do too, Joe.