I have a picture of my wee sister Katie in the hospital on March 9th, 2019 walking down the hallway pushing an IV pole complete with five fluid bags and feeding tubes attached to a dwindling body. She is smiling as usual but it was not a pretty picture. Katie’s stay was not brief either and there were some “touch and go” times that caused a good amount of concern for everyone but especially for Papa and Mama.

Papa is one who, when asked, “…but how do you feel about that?” will say something generic such as, “fine”, or “this too shall pass.” It could be a generational thing; whatever the reason, it doesn’t go to what is really going on inside of him.  During the weeks Katie was in the hospital I asked him several times, “how are you feeling about Katie’s situation?” “She’s a Firth and she’ll be alright,” was the pat answer. 

One afternoon I decided I was not going to let an answer like that pass.  “How are you feeling about Katie?” “She’s a Firth…”. “No Papa,” I shot back, “how are you really feeling?”

He paused and said, “Helpless. I feel helpless.  I wish I could just make it all better, but all I can do is pray.”

Papa is a man of faith.  He believes in the unconditional love of Jesus and the Eucharist.  I knew he was praying.  As I laid in bed one evening falling asleep I could hear my Papa’s voice laced with a melody singing, “Won’t you take my child’s suffering and give it to me.”  

That phrase echoed what I know of Papa; his deep love of his family and his willingness “to bear another’s burden, their toil, and their strife.” 

Fast forward one day shy of a year and I have another picture of Katie with Jimmy getting ready to run a 1/2 Marathon.  It is a story of amazing resilience, courage, and family support. 

I guess Papa was right, “She’s a Firth.”