Sean's gift - Catholic AIDS patient's legacy - Column

Everyone in our parish knew Sean. They remember when he, my wife, and I joined the church in 1980. It was Sean who led us to this decision. Sean's mother was born in England and joined the Anglo-Catholic church as a child. She instructed Sean in the catechism when he was young, and he memorized the Nicene Creed, Psalm 23, and Psalm 123. As he grew older, he sought more information and began to attend services at our local Catholic parish.

At thirteen years old, Sean told his mother he wanted to join the Catholic church. She urged him to wait until he was fifteen, because this was such a serious, life-long commitment. On the morning of his fifteenth birthday, he asked again. My wife immediately called the parish priest and made arrangements for Sean to receive instructions. Inspired by his fervor, we took instructions with him and we all joined the church together.

The parishioners soon knew Sean because he was a daily communicant and later an altar server. With the arrival of a new pastor, Sean was appointed sacristan and given the responsibility of training the other altar servers. He served at virtually all the Masses and his reverence was apparent to everyone.

At the same time, Sean was a brilliant high-school student. At the Washington International School, he was class valedictorian. He was a natural linguist: a Latin scholar, a student of Mandarin, and fluent in French and Spanish. Many Spanish-speaking members of the parish would come to him for advice or to ask for his prayers. They and others expressed the hope that he would become a priest, and he seriously considered this.

He was accepted at Georgetown University in the Foreign Service School, specializing in Latin American studies. By then he aspired to a career in international affairs and we had high hopes for him. He was a serious student, studying sixteen to eighteen hours a day. These studies took a toll on him. By May 1985, he was constantly fatigued and ran high fevers. His doctor diagnosed his condition as mononucleosis. Nevertheless, Sean maintained a high scholastic average and was consistently on the dean's list.

Sean graduated cum laude in May 1986, at the age of twenty-two. Two days later, his doctor informed him that he tested positive for the Human Immune Virus (HIV) and that he probably did not have mononucleosis the year before but a manifestation of AIDS. In an effort to reassure Sean, the doctor told him that AIDS was fatal in only 10 percent of cases. Such was the state of knowledge at the time. But Sean, who had already seen many of his friends stricken and die of AIDS, was more realistic. He saw his own plans for the future grow dim.

If my son perceived a contradiction between his homosexuality and being a devout Catholic, he never discussed it with us. I presume he considered this to be a private matter between himself and his Creator. He felt his homosexuality was a natural condition over which he had no control and one with which he lived but would not have chosen. We knew he was a homosexual, but it was not generally known. Certainly there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he was.

He continued to serve as an acolyte and to guide and train the altar servers. By 1989, however, he became so ill that he could no longer go to church. He begged us not to reveal the true nature of his illness, fearing that some members of our predominantly conservative parish would judge him harshly.

His health deteriorated. He began to experience the effects of neuropathy, which attacked the nerve endings, making it painful for him to walk. Ceglomeglovirus dimmed his vision and finally blinded him. Toxoplasmosis affected his brain, especially his short-term memory. He was hospitalized several times, but he pleaded with us to care for him at home. He had seen too many of his friends die in the hospital. We moved his bed into the living room where we could be with him at all times. A home-care nursing service gave him frequent blood transfusions and intravenous saline solutions when he became dehydrated because of his raging fevers.

His mother cooked him his favorite foods, but he could rarely keep them down. When he could no longer take food by mouth, a permanent catheter was surgically implanted in his chest, through which he could receive fluid nourishment, have blood drawn or transfusions given, and receive intravenous medication. The nurses trained me to give him the multitude of medications he required throughout the day and night, including those that had to be injected.

Sean's friends rallied around him, visiting him at all hours to keep up his spirits. He brightened considerably during these visits and we were grateful for his friends' attentions.

But then, on October 6, 1990, Sean died.

He endured terrible affliction without complaint, strengthened by his faith. He was courageous to the end.

Released from our pledge of silence, we wrote an obituary that stated Sean had died of AIDS and that he left not only grieving parents but a companion who loved him dearly. At his memorial service, in view of the fact that it was at last publicly known that Sean was a homosexual who died of AIDS, we were concerned that few parishioners would show up. After all, until that moment there had never been prayers for the intentions of people with AIDS or any acknowledgment that the AIDS crisis existed. But the church was full to overflowing, and every priest Sean had served attended and concelebrated the Mass. We were overwhelmed by the wave of sympathy expressed by the parishioners.

I believe that Sean brought home to the parish, probably for the first time, that this terrible plague of AIDS was in our midst. That if he, someone they admired and loved, could die from it, then so could others. That they, as parents, might have to cope somehow with the ordeal we had endured. Perhaps this realization, this awakening of the parish to AIDS, was Sean's gift to the community.

What can be done about AIDS? Certainly a cure is not imminent. While research scientists and physicians are charged with the primary responsibility for finding the means of preventing the disease and for curing those who have it, public concern must drive and support such an effort. That task rests with all of us.

But there is yet another, more personal task. Each of us must demonstrate compassion for those who have the virus and give loving care to those whose minds and bodies have been invaded by the opportunistic diseases which accompany AIDS and inevitably lead to death. Above all, we must not push our sons and daughters, sisters and brothers away. To do so is to create resentment and despair on both sides.

Each of us must find some way to help. For our part, my wife and I have come to realize that the victims of AIDS are not only those who are infected and die of the disease, but those who love them and survive. To express our appreciation to Sean's friends who came to be with him when he was so ill, we have made it a practice to invite them to our home on a regular basis. Some of them are HIV positive; some others have been stricken with full-blown AIDS. One or two have been expelled from their homes by parents who cannot accept the fact that they are homosexual. This is the most tragic situation of all: young people being denied parental love and support when they need it most.

Some of the original group have died of AIDS; others have been brought to us by their friends. All of them know that we understand that we are all God's creatures and that we love them. Our house is for all of them, a home away from home, a place where they are always welcome.

Meanwhile, we pray to God for mercy, strength, and support.

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