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| The school's beautiful front entrance. |
Day 224
I never felt like a co-owner of the building, but I did firmly believe I'd always be there, always be a monk until the day I died. I gave up my life to the service of God as a religious brother, and my home during those four years was at Chaminade High School in Mineola, New York.
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| The Olympic-size swimming pool just steps from my bedroom door. |
I never felt like I owned the school, a school I actually failed out of in 1990, but the monastery did always feel like my own. When I walked the halls of the brothers' house, I felt like I was walking through a special place I'd always dwell in, and always be.
I had many difficult days there as Brother Sean. It was a time in my life right after high school when I fully came to terms with the fact that I was a gay man, and I subsequently went through a very difficult bout with clinical depression, too. The support I received from my superiors could be characterized as warm at best, far from loving. I'd be offered a tissue, but never a hug, for instance. And the way they showed me the door, followed by the cold shoulder these past 17 years, has hardly made me feel close to them since.
And yet I'd be lying if I said I didn't still want to be close to them, and to the community. They were my brothers for just over four years, and like any family, we had our challenges together. I still care very much for and about them, and I am forever grateful to them all for the help and guidance they gave me while I was there.
The monastery they still call their home was once my home too, and it's a place I will always think of with great fondness and happy memories. No matter what struggles and issues befell me there, it was still my monastery, my home, and in some way, whether or not I ever step foot on those grounds again, I know it always will be.
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