If it is possible to be shocked but not

surprised then that is how I felt when an email hit my desk last night. It was sent out to a group I am peripherally involved in. I just happen to be on the list of people who are informed about what is going on from time to time.

In this case however I also knew the person it was about. Perhaps in a way I also knew him better than most of those who get the information knew him. It was not intentional. It just happened.

He was a member of a caring profession. He was also "gay" but, when I knew him, he was not in a relationship. He saw it as inappropriate, not the sort of thing that those he cared for would condone. Those people were important to him, very important. He had chosen his role or, as he would have said, been chosen to do the work he did. It is not easy work. He saw his attraction to his own sex as a test. Could he put it to one side and concentrate on the needs of others?

I have no doubt he talked to his superiors. They must have talked to him. What they said to each other is something I of which I have no knowledge at all. I would not want to know. For me he was simply someone I saw occasionally and happened to like very much. I liked him because he was a gentle man as well as a gentleman. His first thought was always for the person he was speaking to. He genuinely wanted to know how you were feeling. 

I came across him because he was in training locally. He would sometimes call in to see the Senior Cat.  Their conversations would often take place out in the shed. He would seek advice from the Senior Cat. It was not about his caring role. They both understood that and the restraints it sometimes places on those who perform it. What he wanted to know was about teaching. At some point they would move from the shed into the kitchen and I would put the kettle on. 

The conversation would continue. Sometimes I would listen. At other times I would return to my own work. He would ask if I could talk about what I was doing that day and was one of those few people who really did understand when I would say, "Not really." 

The last time he came to see us was just before he was appointed to a new place. He was feeling very anxious and uncertain about it. It was obvious that he was trying to hide it from everyone he knew but the Senior Cat had made two things for him. He had asked for one but the other was something that meant infinitely more to him. He stood there holding it as if he would never let it go. The Senior Cat probably made well over a hundred of them in his life time but he made this, like several others, from a special piece of timber.

"Sit down," I told him, "I'll put the kettle on." He sat. He transferred the little thing from one hand to the other and continued to run his thumb slowly over it again and again. We talked about the thesis he proposed writing but I thought he would be too busy to write it. I knew it was unlikely we would ever meet again.

We did not. I was right about the thesis and I was right to be worried that he would find his new role very difficult. There were occasional reports that told me he was "liked", "good", "so kind", "a lovely man" and more but I heard that almost inaudible whisper of concern. 

It was all too much in the end. He did not see himself as worthy. Yes, I was shocked. It is always a shock but, sadly, I am not surprised. I am also selfish enough that I am glad my last sight of him was, as he was about to get into his car, the way he held up the small object in his hand and called out, "Thank you again. It means so much to me."

The Senior Cat saw religion in a very different light from that young man but he had given him a small "holding cross" made from olive wood from the Mount of Olives. He knew it would mean something to an uncertain young man. I hope it went on meaning something to him even if it was all too much in the end.