Hidalgo del Parral, Mexico, March 2005
“So, Juan, it"s finally over,” said the bishop as we left the graveside.
“Yes, bishop, it is,” I replied. “I hope he can find the peace in death that so eluded him in these last years.” The funeral had been small, just the bishop, who had conducted the service himself, two sisters of mercy from the seminary, and myself. No great ceremony to mark the passing of Father Rodrigo, he whose name had once been spoken with such reverence by the people of Parral, those he had served so well, for so long.
“Do you think everyone has forgotten him now?” I asked.
“We are fickle creatures, we humans,” spoke the bishop. “Once, everyone in town knew of the works and the good deeds of Rodrigo, but time erases even the fondest memories sometimes. Better that he be
