| A Letter from Fr. Power |
| Friday, 08 December 2006 | |
 Fr. Power in Dec. 2006 It is 10 minutes all eleven a.m., Dec. 9, 2006. I sit in my room to write a letter to people whose faces and names are now fading into the dream of the past, the many years I spend in the lovely land of Singhbhum, in Jamshedpur and other places. Those 43 years were the heart of my life but at age 87 my memory plays tricks on me and I have to struggle to recreate that dream world. Of course, soon, when I get to heaven, it will all come back and again all my old friends will join me there and our old memories will be sharp and it will all come back to us. But now I can tell you only a little about my present situation, since I came back to America. At first I was able to drive a car and be active as a Jesuit priest in preaching and giving retreats. But unfortunately I could not grow younger and could not teach in schools and direct plays, etc., any more. Now I am finally in full retirement at age 87. I have moved from Wernersville, Pa, to a new place which is for people on the last leg of their earthly journey, waiting for the shuttle that takes us to heaven. There are about 30 of us here. But right next door we have 100 other Jesuits who are professors in St. Joseph's University, Philadelphia. The University itself is within walking distance. With me are Fr. Kennedy, Nash and Roberts. Many are in wheel chairs but I get by with a walker and continue to solve all the problems of the world. How do I do this? By going over all my knowledge of the Bible and the whole story of the life of Jesus and his church. Besides that I am or was a devotee of the Hindu and other religions which I realise also have come to us from God in some way. And I realise that God was always in the mind of atheists and non believers instinctively to different extents. I saw the holy lives of many, many people of all or no religion, as well as I saw the evil of most of us at times. After being 43 years in India I could not get India out of my system. It still sustains me, even though I forget, forget names and faces. Fr. Power in Wernersville in 2004 The last of last words spoken is goodbye, but if from this borne of time and place, the flood may bear me far, I hope to meet my pilot face to face when I have crossed the bar. Tennyson, I believe. Adieu. Fr. Eugene J Power, S.J. Manresa Hall |
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