Denver Catholic

10 I OPINION JANUARY 15, 2014 I DENVER CATHOLIC REGISTER aith of F hool Sc ST. ANTHONY OF THE DESERT (251-356) Feast day: Jan. 17. Orphaned at the age of 20, Anthony received a large inheritance, and responsibility for his sister. He sought help at Mass where he heard Matthew 19:21 proclaimed, the passage where Jesus tells the rich young man to sell everything and give it to the poor. St. Antony perceived Jesus was speaking to him and he obeyed. After selling all he owned and giving it to the poor, he moved to the desert and began a monastic way of life dedicated to prayer and sacred reading. He started several monasteries. Tormented relentlessly by the devil, he is a great example of prayerful perseverance. Husband's life was a faith letter PHOTO PROVIDED ALEXANDRA and Mario Salazar with their four children during a 2010 trip to Breckenridge. BY ALEXANDRA SALAZAR More than just retreats… Reunions • Weddings • Vow Renewal Corporate & Staff Training • Youth Groups Sacramental Preparation Come for a day or week Book your next event with us 719-258-1600 for Tour or Reservations www.eltesororetreat.org THE ARCHDIOCESE OF DENVER CEMETERIES AND MORTUARY Caring for the faithful in Northern Colorado since 1893 in their most personal time of need. • Professional, personalized service • Respectful • Compassionate Archdiocese of Denver Mortuary 12801 W. 44th Ave. Wheat Ridge, CO 80033 (303) 425-9511 Mt. Olivet Cemetery 12801 W. 44th Ave. Wheat Ridge, CO 80033 (303) 424-7785 St. Simeon Cemetery 22001 E. State Hwy. 30 Aurora, CO 80018 (720) 859-9785 Alexandra, 45, is the widow of Mario Salazar, who died in 2011, 12 days before his 47th birthday. Together they had four children. She is a member of the Christian Life Movement in Denver. "Do not say goodbye yet," my Mario told me a few days before dying. We both knew death was close and every minute God granted him was precious. It was difficult to leave behind wife, children, family friends … life. I just wanted him to know how much I loved him and how grateful I was for everything he taught me, for everything he gave me, for everything we had lived together. "Help me get to heaven," I begged him many times. All that was learned, received, lived, took on a greater, deeper meaning. Mario's life was at stake. It had been two years since Mario was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I remember vividly when he was asked to go to the hospital for a procedure to remove what the doctors thought was a stone in the bile duct. "I am afraid," he told me, but I didn't give it much credence as I thought this was going to be something simple and then everything would go back to normal. I think Mario sensed something more. I had no idea this was the beginning of a path that would transform our lives. Suddenly we were living a reality that we thought far-off. We urgently asked many people for their prayers. We knew we needed God's strength to walk this path. It was as if God leaned over us to sustain us in an embrace. Grace was strongly there. We felt profoundly loved and we trusted everything had meaning, if not entirely clear at the moment. We clung to the cross. The cross! The cross! The cross that purifies and saves! Mario embraced his cross with courage, generosity and love. The path was not easy. There were many days of uncertainty, visits to doctors and stays at the hospital, different procedures, treatments and tests, but Mario was strong and he never lost hope. This hope was the fountain that allowed him to radiate joy in the midst of pain. I was moved by his sense of humor when the doctor asked him how he was feeling after his first session of radiation: "I am radiant!" he said. For two years Mario lived mortification. Suffering patiently, he never complained. He humbly accepted his pain as the mystery of the cross and let himself be transformed by it. "If you are ever fortunate enough to receive a thousand crosses, praise those blessed evils that fall on your lot, as they bring close the One who lived among men, the One who died for us to take us to heaven," he would often sing. We asked for a miracle. We insistently asked for his healing, and we did it to the end. But the Lord was working with Mario at a deeper level. "I understand now," Mario told me one day. "The miracle is that God has saved me!" Mario had united himself to God. He had embraced his cross. That union with God was for him the true healing. During the last days of his life, I opened wide the doors of our house. Our community of friends filled his room with songs and prayers. This is the community in which Mario and I encountered the Lord and in which our faith became our life. Mario was accompanied by and surrounded with friends, enveloped with love. "To have a community of friends is to have a little piece of heaven on earth," he told us one day. Mario and I felt that we were in heaven. In the midst of all those days during which many people came to pray for Mario, the Lord delicately preserved a special moment for Mario and I. It was the morning of Dec. 15, 2011. Mario waited anxiously for me to open my eyes. He was breathing with difficulty. I thought he needed his medicine. I gave him a kiss and remained at his side. The Holy Spirit prompted me to read the Bible. Immersed in the presence of God, I opened to John, Chapter 11. There the Lord tenderly reminded us of his love. It was the passage that had accompanied Mario throughout his illness: "This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it. … I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" I finished reading, gave Mario a hug and he died. At that moment, the presence of God was so powerful that I felt I had touched eternity. Mario did not suffer in vain; his pain was very fruitful. It has been a fountain of countless blessings for me, our children and many others. "There is no Christianity without the cross!" he would repeat many times. "Everything with joy!" he taught me. Profound joy that floods my torn heart. I asked Mario many times to leave something written for his children, but he left something even better. He wrote with his life—strong and clear—that God exists, that his love is real, that it saves and that it is stronger than death. I love you Mario.

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