At the end of the corridor

Father Almaric, spiritual assessor of an MCR team from central France, sent us texts, fruits of the reflections that life inspires him

You will discover today the first of these texts that we leave to your meditation.

I don't need to ask where my old friend’s room is... I see him, alone, at the end of the corridor, sitting in his wheelchair, facing a window where he can see the coming and going of the cars in the neighbouring street. Before he even said "Michel" in a somewhat astonished tone, from his first glance, he recognizes me. I am happy! I was so afraid of having become a stranger to him!

Alone at the end of the corridor, he waits for him to be brought down to the common room, to join the other residents of this retirement home, composed, for the most part, of religious men and women.

By reviewing this old friend, former teacher at the great Seminary, memories come back to my mind. For a long time, he had been a member of the General Council of his congregation. As such, he had travelled many countries, in America, in Africa or in Asia, to meet the communities of brothers. He had been one of the initiators of training centres for young Lazarist seminarians, from China or Central America. He had written several books on St. Vincent de Paul and the figures of his congregation, while assuring many translations, up to the last few years.

Man of great intellectual stature, here he is... alone at the end of the corridor. Surprise and questioning on my part: a life that comes to an end, it perceives itself but "does not speak"... What are his feelings there, at the moment he sees me? A bright flash in his eyes and a repeated "Michel" seem to summarize the whole story of a relationship of over 40 years!

I give him a picture on which he is in the presence of Pope John Paul II. He smiles, astonished. What are the memories of this meeting dating back to 10 years? I will not know. Like my old friend, many of these residents have assumed great responsibilities in the Church. Today, slowly, they leave us. The attention of the staff towards them brings sparks of life. In front of the elevator, I cross several, marked by their great age. They look at me astonished, clinging to my own gaze as if I were joining them in their great solitude. It is in the eyes of others that older people can still recognize themselves alive.

At this stage of life, do we not perceive even more keenly, for these religious, single men and women, the absence of a family and relatives? Even in religious congregations, old age isolates.

While making this reflection, as if to fault me, at the exit of the elevator, I meet one of his young brothers, a bottle of wine in his hand, coming to greet him. For a time "at the end of the corridor", another sign of brotherhood!

Michel Almaric