Unholy Vocation

This story revolves around suicidal thoughts, how Donnie Gregory deals with them and is helped by several people. At no time will he go through with his intentions due to the protective factors built up around him, the plot revolves around his struggle and how his dark thoughts are successfully managed.

His biggest protective factor is his belief in God and his Catholic faith. He finds solace, and more, in a young nun named Sister Maria during his wife's sickness through her death and afterwards.

Donnie and Sherrie Gregory were high school sweethearts, king and queen of homecoming, got pregnant the summer after high school and went on to have three beautiful children. Donnie adored Sherrie and spent 24 years worshiping her, building a life for them and their family, had a successful career and was looking forward to planning a silver (25) anniversary trip for just them to Europe.

Sherrie recently was stricken with a rare form of cancer that progressed quickly sending Donnie's world in upheaval and testing his belief in God, life and plummeting him into depression that had always lurked under the surface of his projected perfect life. The life was perfect, but perfect for them and the truth would be shameful for those left behind.

Sister Maria Jaminez a 25 year-old driven to serve the church as a nun, converted after love's cruelties fertilized and sprouted her vocation. Sister Maria lands in a position to save Donnie's soul after seeing his dark struggle that including a demonic ending he planned for himself, his wife and Sister Maria herself.

Sister Maria's actions were going to determine who lived and who died the night Sherrie Gregory started her final journal towards God.

When Donnie's in the chapter it will be told from his perspective.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter one - Till Death Do Us Part

Greeting the hundreds of visitors at the visitation last night took its toll on me and my family. We were sitting in the front of the church, I gazing at my wife's picture. Her remains cremated and placed in an elegant urn sitting by the picture I couldn't take my eyes off of it even as several late arrivals paid their respects passing in front of me, most crying, some glancing back.

My oldest daughter Charlee 24, was crying, I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into me, she and I were close.

"It's not fair..." she said, her anthem of the past six months. "She was only 42...Why are we in a church, God doesn't give two shits..."

I pulled her in tighter, and through gritted teeth tried to speak with sincerity.

"Honey, she's with God, she's without pain, she's without all the bullshit," I said, kissing her on the cheek. She looked so much like her mother, the dark skin, muted some by my Caucasian genes, her natural curls, full lips, body of a dancer, her dress stretched in all the places showing her athleticism.

I was looking at the picture and thinking about how beautiful, sexually attractive Sherrie was...I couldn't believe my mind had to think of her in the past tense now. Sherrie WAS my world, hips that shook and rocked my body multiple nights a week, a mind that was sharp and challenging me everyday, giving our children the best of her to offset the worst of me.

"But we're WITHOUT her..." Charlee said, sad eyes filled with tears. "She's the lucky one...there's so much pain in this room!"

I hadn't cried in a couple weeks, her accelerated path to death rocketed off the launch pad of a simple physical, leading to unusual numbers, a biopsy and a rare form of pancreatic cancer. They had made major strides in battling this monster, but she had a variety that all the advancements and experimental treatments couldn't slow the fangs of the disease cutting into her flesh, deteriorating her body.

She was bedridden in four months and the last two weeks she was sedated and unconscious.

I was staring at the picture when he priest came into the church and started the ceremony, the packed house of friends family, community members and her co-workers. She was a talented defense attorney, taking on many pro-bono cases, she had many down trodden folk who she kept in touch with after dissecting prosecutors in court, giving justice to those who rarely saw such breaks.

I felt my heart beating faster, I couldn't believe it was happening, my wife was gone and we were burying her today. Why!!!??? I just wanted to be where she was, with her, taking on the afterlife together like we had done with life for nearly 25 years. Our wills took care of each other and took care of the kids, the seed of leaving with her was planted months ago, sewn into my DNA, into my routine, looking at her decline, the depression settling into my heart, the Devil telling me I was nothing.

My tears were because I wanted to leave them, my children, they were all strong, charismatic, handsome or beautiful.

I looked down the row and Darnel, 22 just graduated from the university of Iowa, his girlfriend Jazzy leaning into him, i figured they would be married soon. It hit me Charlee's boyfriend Tucker was missing then saw him hustling up the side aisle as we rose to our feet to begin the mass. He apologized said something about work, both lived in Chicago and he sold real estate. Our youngest Jarris, 18, just starting his senior year, playing football destined for a scholarship. There were a smattering of young ladies who came through the receiving line last night spending time mainly with Jarris, CeeCee he just met, wasn't with him, probably in the back.

Sherrie and I had invested well, had retirement accounts to tap into and a college fund that Jarris could have not for his ascending football career. Your mind rationalizes the irrational when you are in your own feelings, grieving and mental sick. I thanked God every DAY for Sherrie, depended on her, and then in a cruel twist in a flash it was over.

The first song, standard at most funerals I'd been to at Sacred Heart Church was "I Will Lift You Up", the choir lead by Sister Rita and featured several other nuns, besides church members, the young nun on the front corner looked over at me through the light head covering, a new touch to her nun's apparel. Her name was Sister Maria Jaminez, and she encountered me several times in my worst moments and was there at the end.

She kept looking at me as the song began, her sweet brown eyes, dark hair under the very shear veil, the tailored nun's top that showed enough of her figure, the skirt that billowed down, and dark boots out the bottom. I swore I could hear her sing "And he will lift you up on Angels wings" alone, like it was a private concert just for my ears.

The soothing words and melody transported my mind back to the hospital chapel, to the news shared to my wife and I that the biopsy news was not good and that cancer had been transported throughout her body.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Going to the Chapel

(six months prior) "We've never seen a case like this, not in a years time and with you experiencing no symptoms for it to land in your pancreas," Doctor Denise Phillips, 55, tall, blonde and as beautiful in the face and body as most models. Dr. Phillips took Sherrie back for some more blood draws and I slipped out to the chapel.

Genuflecting, I gave the sign of the cross, I saw the large ornate Christ hanging from the two planks of wood over the altar and I felt almost as lifeless and tired. I cried, then sobbed and then cursed, and then did it all over again.

"May I help you Sir?" the soft voice said, her hand on my wrist for a moment to gain the attention without startling me.

"Yes! You can help me by getting the fuck away from me Sister!" I said sternly her eyes locking with mine so hard I was the one who first turned away. I immediately felt bad, her hand had stayed on my wrist before she took a step back, but didn't leave. I felt like an a-hole and turned back to her waiting eyes.

"We just got the worst news and...." I started, and she moved back to me, her hand on my shoulder I lunged forward I knelt before the crucifix.

"May I pray with you," her calm voice with an assuring and comforting tone.

"Yes Sister," I said, my mind not comprehending anything in the whirlwind of bad news, noticing her hispanic features behind the shear veil. She began praying...

"Hail Mary full of grace the lord is with thee blessed are thou among women and...."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Back to the funeral)

The song ended and my mind left the hospital chapel and came back to the service. Sister Maria was still looking my direction, the lyrics had lifted me up to where we first met, the full rosary she led with me and the promise to be at the hospital for all of our appointments. The song ended and she stayed in the choir section, now watching Father Krammer, Sacred Heart's priest and her mentor, intently turning her heart toward God.

We sat for the readings, the whole "walk through the valley of death" scripture, then standing for the Gospel, talking of Christ rising in three days. My kids were numb, looking down, the oldest two gaining comfort from their significant others, my youngest just blank. We sat for the message, Father Krammer having been involved, but leaving the majority of check ins to Sister Maria, we settled in ready for his words.

My eyes went back to Sister Maria, she bowed, my anger welling up again. She had saved my life two times already, being there at just at the right time, divine intervention she would say. She hiding my gun...but I could wait her out, I mean it could be a month, two months, eight months to get Jarris off to college. Once her eyes are gone, the memory of her interventions distant, another gun could be purchased.

"Sherrie was a strikingly beautiful person body and soul," Father started, sincerely trying to put us all at ease. "Even the last week of lucidness before she was comforted by the IV that took her consciousness. In stillness her soul shown brightly.

"Bullshit," Charlee whispered to me, she was most opposed by the end of life plan that Sherrie and I constructed. Charlee wanted her mother conscious longer, but the pain and the advancement was cruel to the body and would be most traumatic if Sherrie would be left awake

I wanted to say "bullshit" back, Sherrie wasn't physically beautiful the last month of her life, the cancer gutting her muscles and turning her all different shades of grey and splotchy red. Anyone who says you move from one stage of grief into the other, and not back and forth, is lying. I was angry in that moment and angriest one night in the chapel when the radiation was taking its toll on Sherrie.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

God only Cries for the Living

(two weeks before Sherrie's Death)

"You heard me!" I bellowed at Sister Maria in the chapel, the warmth of the late summer had her in a white blouse above the black long skirt, her generous chest heaving trying to get me to calm down. "I'm going to end it ALL! She's my everything!!! We go together!"

I sobbed uncontrollably, more than any other time, I truly felt was I said regardless of my kids, my faith, I thought we were that in love that much that I couldn't see another option, the depression tightening around my soul, squeezing the hope out of my center. I went to leave, I had a gun, a place and idea of where and would just write a note and take us both out.

Sister Maria stood in front of the door of the Chapel, I had told her exactly how I would do it and toe pray for me. I was headed there right now, maybe it was my cry for help but it didn't feel like it at the time. I wanted us both gone, she was unconscious and out of my life while laying in bed at home, I had just come to the hospital sign some papers before heading back.

I had come to the chapel to ask forgiveness of God when Sister Maria saw me.

"Please move," I said with anger, she didn't budge, the veil was just on top of her head, face exposed.

"I will call the authorities if you leave Donnie," she said, still standing in my path. "Let's talk..."

Sister Maria reached out and took my hand and led me back to the front pew. We prayed one section of a rosary and then she prayed over me.

"Jesus, please move your son through this stage so he can be strong for Sherrie," Sister said putting me in my place, showing me my selfishness. "Any thoughts of taking an easy way out, one that could have a drastic effect on his soul. Give your servant strength in the face of this hardship."

I had just admitted my plan to take us both Sherrie and I out and Sister's words softened me, she didn't call the metal ward for suicide evaluation, something I would mock later. We talked for over three hours that day before Christ in the chapel.

I should have gone home to be with my wife, instead we stayed, Sister Maria was trying to save my life, my soul. The afternoon progressed and after a lot of talk diving into my life, our loving marriage, it culminated in an unprovoked admission by Sister Maria.

It was after I asked her what the benefits of being a Sister, having heard her say something about committing to a convent her junior year of college.

She paused, her eyes always searching mine, connecting and trying to reach inside my emotions.

"As Sisters we are committed to a perfect soulmate, Christ, who protects us for all human imperfections" she said, and then bowed as if she said too much.

"You said you committed to this life in college," I said starting towards the real ask. "Was it a man that drove you to commit to a perfect man, one that could not hurt you?"

She gave a indignant chuckle, mouth closed, air passing through her nose only, then looked up without raising her head.

"Before Sherrie, had you ever broken another woman's heart," Sister Maria said, then straightened in the pew and moved closer, just a couple inches separating each of us. "Ripped it out of the chest, stomped on it, spit on it and then defiled it with excrement?"

"I'd had a few girlfriends in high school, but Sherrie and I met there and, well, it was inevitable because soon after my 18th birthday Charlee was conceived and forced our hand to marriage," I said, a little embarrassed. "I didn't crush on anyone like I crushed on Sherrie from day one. I'm guessing you got crushed."

"I was a good Catholic girl in the sense I knew how to give a man a good blow job," Sister Maria said with a small chuckle, making eye contact, then looking down, then right back up into my eyes. "Not the swirl the tongue around the head then jack it kind, the real, deep, take it all penetrating kind I learned the summer before my senior year. I was an 18 year-old senior, my parents home schooling me in Kindergarten then enrolling me there the next year."

"Okay, I'm listening," I said echoing her chuckle, but in an understanding tone, that Sister was also a woman who needed to share some of her story.

"Father Krammer, my mentor, knows the details but other than him I've never shared any of this with anyone," Sister Maria said, now turned to me, her knee pressing into my thigh. "I started dated a good Catholic boy who was a year older than me the summer, we met at a summer camp before my senior year, he was a camp counselor."

She went on to talk about how her pursued her, at the pool, at nights letting her stay with him, the other counselors and volunteers past curfew. She talked about how her body had changed and boys were noticing her and asking her out that spring."

"I was conflicted with my behavior. I felt I had a vocation to the Lord since way back when I was in grade school," she said, her hair noticeably curled under the shear veil, I saw her lips, full and a dark shade of ruby, her skin light brown, eyes looking up into mine. "He shifted my thinking the minute our lips met and his tongue penetrated my mouth. My body was awake under his touch, mixing tongues, our hearts beating together when he would hold me close, or lay me down and moved back and forth clothed."

"You lost your virginity at camp?" I had to ask, cut to the chase, maybe try to stop my eyes from seeing her as a woman, not a woman of God.

"Not that summer, not for three summers," Sister Maria said, her chest heaving, breath fast, wanting to get it all out.

"Three years later he crushed your spirit?" Again, trying to cut to the chase, I felt uncomfortable with my feelings about her in that moment, my wife suffering at home and I was seeing a young woman's transformation in my mind from her words.

"You have no idea," she said, bowed her head, got up and left the chapel.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Father's sermon wrapped up with stories of time with us in hospice, of us before the sickness, he tried to tie "our" dreams together with a message that they'll carry on in me and my kids. I squeezed Charlee's hand, her boyfriend Tucker was in his phone she looked up at me with sullen eyes, knowing I was her rock.

The service moved into the Liturgy of the Eucharistic, where we summon Christ to take on the body in the form of a white wafer for all to 'take, eat...do this in memory of me' Father said and we prepared for communion.

I looked down the row, first at Jarris, who was still motionless, stoic. Darnel and Jazz, they were comforting each other and again I glanced at Charlee, giving me a smile, Tucker nodding. I couldn't believe we were here....I was here.

We stood to take communion and Sister Maria helped deliver, moving to the altar and took the chalice of wine, "his blood, which was given for you", walking to her it was taking me back to another moment Sister Maria postponed what will be the inevitable.

"The blood of Christ, given for you" Sister Maria said, "Brother Donnie"

Her lips were pursed, her eyes on mine, the electricity of the moment recharged, the scent I ingested just a week ago today, inherently Sister Maria. I walked back to the pew and drifted back into the memory that had me here in church today, not lying beside me wife.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True Confessions

(one week before Sherrie's passing)

Sister Maria had come to sit with me, I was struggling and we had said everything about death, my mind already made up about taking my life the minute she died, the kids would mourn only once, my pain would be gone, they would be provided for through Sherrie and our investments.

"Tell me about your counselor," I said more just wanting to pass the time than curious, I was in a state of relaxed acceptance. "Tel me everything."

She smiled and gave the anonymous boy a name, Jason Mulligan, the counselor she she said they started dating, he in college she an 18 year-old senior.

"I was determined to stay a virgin," Sister Maria said, 2 a.m. I had asked 'this counselor got you when?' A couple nights ago we had discussed my courtship of Sherrie and our first time, before marriage of course. There wasn't judgement, just coaching me through the grief as I held Sherrie's hand, her body so peaceful. "I kept him satisfied for three years, my mouth, my skills were orally magical, both finding ways to satisfy with our mouths and hands."

I let her talk about the sexual things, I would get hard, but it would deflate the moment I turned and looked at my wife. It was so late and I was so tired, she kept talking until I started to slip into sleep.