Farewell

He struck me as a kindly, gray-haired, old gentleman–a fine man filled with genuine sincerity and a deep sense of compassion for his fellow man. I first met him at the CHC emergency room, where I was taken because of injuries involving an automobile.

“Aren’t you Charles Reyes?” he politely asked, as I was about to be examined.

I confirmed my identity.

“What happened to you?” he asked. And although I had never met him before, he seemed genuinely concerned for my personal welfare.

I think I shrugged and essentially said, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Then I found myself telling him exactly what had happened. Although he was a veritable stranger, he seemed like a man who could be trusted. I liked him immediately.

As I was about to be moved into another room for X-rays, he mentioned that he read my columns in the Saipan Tribune. He said they were interesting, and he wanted me to drop by and see him some time for a talk.

I could tell he did not agree with some of my views, and yet he apparently found them worthy enough for friendly intellectual discussion and engagement.

After the encounter, I wanted to drop by and see him again. I wanted to have that serious talk. But I never got around to it. Something always came up.

Later, I found out that he was a good friend of the Stewarts of Saipan: of Bill and Ann Stewart, who are some pretty good people.
Bill and Ann had some mighty fine things to say about him. They said he was a very good man–dedicated, devoted, intellectual, and very well-read. “You should really meet him,” Bill said.

True enough, Bill and Ann always had nice things to say about people. In fact, I never heard Bill utter a disparaging word against anyone–including the CNMI’s ardent detractors and the fanatical proponents of a federal takeover.

But Bill was particularly effusive about this man’s impeccable character. He was Bill’s close friend.

So one day, late in the afternoon, I drove by this kindly old man’s office and decided to see if he was available for a nice chat. After all, intellectual discussion and philosophy had always stimulated me.

Maybe there was something he could tell me–something I had not considered before. Maybe there was something he could say to bring me back into the flock, though I had already strayed so far away from my original views–the views of my upbringing and social conditioning.

But, alas, he was not in his office that afternoon, which was closed at the time. I never had a chance to really talk to him. I would have liked to. But now I never will.

His name was Father Gary Bradley. And although I am no longer a deeply religious man, I still would like to say, God bless him. I believe he was a good man.