This may be the most difficult column I’ve ever written. So far I’ve started five different versions and didn’t’ like any of them. The one I’m writing now, this one, is inspired by frustration, disappointment, grief and a horrible feeling of inadequacy.
See, I want this one to be the best column I’ve ever written. And I put a lot of pressure on myself to make it stand above the rest. I’m afraid I’m failing.
And by failing in my goal for this column to be the best, it feels like I’m failing Father Gus.
When I write columns, whether they’re about my family, my schools, my parish, my town, the words sort of pour out. There’s a rhythm that happens, a natural flow that makes me, the writer, know I’m on the right path and headed in the right direction.
This time it feels like my GPS has lost its signal and I’m deep in the woods.
Father Gus deserves better. He deserves the absolute best.
I want to pay tribute to the man who had such a huge impact on my life and the lives of my mom, my husband, my kids. Without exaggeration he was a lifeline for me, a light that led me to better places, a stronger faith and serene life.
“It’ll be fine.”
He would say those words to me, all the time. And he was right, all the time.
The first time he said those words to me was not long after my husband and I decided to register with St. Patrick Church (my Kehoe family parish since the mid-1800s). I joined St. Francis of Assisi after I got married, but after meeting the Rev. Gus Puleo, pastor of St. Pat’s, well, we felt we belonged with him.
My mom and Father Gus were very close, and through her we forged a friendship with him. He immediately formed a bond with Matthew. A few months after we joined St. Pat’s, Father Gus told me (note: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to make his First Holy Communion. I thought Matthew would need “training” and education on the sacraments before such a big step. “Doesn’t he need to know things?” I asked Father Gus.
“It’ll be fine.”
And it was more than fine. On March 17, 2013, in front of the usual 10 a.m. Mass goers, and my family and Matthew’s teachers from St. Katherine Day School, Father Gus gave Matthew his first Holy Communion. And then got a standing ovation. It was beautiful.
A few years later Father Gus told me (note again: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to be an altar server. I was worried that extra chromosome would get in the way, and said to Father Gus, “Doesn’t he have to know things?”
“It’ll be fine.”
And it was. It was more than fine. From that first Mass together it was the “Father Gus and Matthew” show on the altar. It wasn’t unusual to see the two of them whispering to each other, then giggling. There were times Matthew applauded (literally) Father Gus’ homily, which the congregation, and Father Gus, appreciated. But Father Gus instructed Matthew during the key parts of the Mass, and made sure another altar server oversaw what Matthew was doing. Matthew still mimics ringing the bells during the consecration.
Then, a few years later Father Gus told me (note again: he did not ask me, he told me) that Matthew needed to be confirmed. Again, I asked, doesn’t he need to know stuff?
It was fine. It was more than fine.
Father Gus never saw the limitations that would prevent Matthew from doing anything. All he saw in my son was the pure goodness of God’s love. And Father Gus taught me, through Matthew, that in God’s love, the potential for wonderful things happening is always there — especially for Matthew. You just have to trust. To Father Gus, Matthew was the epitome of God’s love.
It was in 2016 when I experienced the true strength and selflessness of Father Gus. March to be exact. That’s when my husband, in the throes of a brain stem stroke, entered the hospital and died seven days later.
Father Gus was there with us. He sat with me and with my kids and was a calming influence for sure. The day I had to sign the release to remove my husband from life support, I called Father Gus. We knew this day was coming, and so, when he answered his phone, he didn’t say hello. He simply said, “I’m on my way.”
When Father Gus got to the hospital, I asked him the one question that kept running through my Catholic head — by signing that release, to remove the breathing tube, was I essentially causing the death of my husband? Father Gus said with conviction and compassion that the breathing machine was keeping my husband alive unnaturally, and by removing it, it would be a natural death. This time he didn’t say “it’ll be fine.” Father Gus’ words were more profound, “Trust in God’s love; let your faith be your strength.”
After Jim died, Father Gus kept a watchful eye out for me, Kaitlyn, Tommy and especially Matthew. When I shared any concerns I had about my kids and their futures he’d listen, interject a few observations then ultimately say, “It’ll be fine.”
I came to learn something about that particular phrase. To the untrained ear “it’ll be fine” may sound trite, a way to brush aside worries. But I knew in my heart that was Father Gus-speak for saying, “I’m on it – I’m praying for you and you must believe things will work out the way they’re supposed to. Just trust in God and don’t worry.” And I believe everyone who knew Father Gus, knew his “speak” as well.
Father Gus the superhero emerged over the course of one year when he single-handedly raised $1.67 million needed to reopen the church which had been closed for a year due to structural issues. But Father Gus knew the church was more than a place to worship — St. Pat’s is a beacon in the community — providing support services, faith-based learning, educational programs and healthcare resources to some of our community’s most vulnerable people. Without St. Pat’s, a lot of folks would be abandoned.
So Father Gus knocked, asked and ultimately received. He asked all the right people — the people he had formed connections with over the course of his life, from his childhood growing up in Norristown and Holy Saviour Parish, who were now in position to help their friend. Donations came in from folks who had no connection to the parish, but who knew Father Gus and knew of his deep faith and goodness. And they came in from all over the country.
It was nothing short of remarkable.
But I’m afraid that fight most likely took its toll on him.
Father Gus faced severe health issues, and it wasn’t easy for him to move around. But he never let his responsibilities as a priest, spiritual leader, as director of the English as a Second Language (ESL) program and the Spanish Department at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary, suffer. He carried on valiantly, and did so without complaint. “What are you going to do?” he’d say.
Father Gus died April 3, 2024. And his death is heartbreaking. It’s difficult to imagine a world without Father Gus – without his laughter, his homilies, his friendship, his support, his guidance and compassion, his dislike for Hallmark movies (but he did like Netflix); and his unwavering love for his parishioners.
As I sat in the pew last Friday morning waiting for his funeral Mass to begin, I thought of all the things Father Gus did for me and my family and what he meant to our parish family. I have thousands of special memories of Father Gus, but I’m guessing everyone who ever met Father Gus does as well. He had a way of making everyone he connected with feel that they alone held a special place in his heart. And that is as remarkable as he was.
I hope Father Gus knew how much he was loved and appreciated. And that his message “to Jesus through Mary” will be remembered and practiced by his parishioners.
When I broke the news to Matthew that his buddy died, I tried the best way I could to explain what happened. “Father Gus has gone to the place he worked his whole life to get to — heaven. Now he can walk and run and breathe without any problems. He’s the happiest he’s ever been.”
Those were the words coming out of my mouth, but in my mind, and in my heart, I heard the voice of Father Gus….
“It’ll be fine.”
Note: To read the many columns the Rev. Gus Puleo wrote for The Times Herald and MediaNews Group, just type his name in the search window of any publication. This (impressive) tagline followed all of his columns:
The Rev. Gus Puleo serves as director of the English as a Second Language (ESL) program and the Spanish Department at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary in Philadelphia, where he also teaches English and Spanish. He is a graduate of Norristown High School and attended Georgetown University, where he received B.A. and B.S. in Spanish and linguistics. He has master’s degrees in Spanish, linguistics and divinity from Middlebury College, Georgetown University and St. Charles Borromeo Seminary. He holds a Ph.D. in Spanish from the University of Pennsylvania. He is the former pastor of St. Patrick Church in Norristown.
Email Cheryl Kehoe Rodgers at crodgers@timesherald.com.
