On June 29, at 10 in the morning, Dr. Plinio boarded in Paris, headed for Brazil. He had not given Dona Lucilia his exact return date, to spare her, once again, “the anguish of the crossing.”1

As soon as he arrived in Rio, he asked that his mother be informed so he could speak with her on the phone. After close to two long months of absence, she and her beloved son were able to have a long “chat.”

“Filhão, thank God, you are always the same!”

On the following morning, Dona Lucilia ignored her doctor’s advice to rest longer, in order to make ready to receive her son. She had a hearty snack prepared to be served to him as soon as he arrived, to restore his energy, as he would certainly be weary from his trip.

When everything was ready, she sat in the entrance hall of the apartment to await him. What immense joy inundated her soul when she saw him appear in the doorway. Embraces, kisses, and blessings were the first manifestations of her joy.

Always true to herself, she did not fail to counterbalance her elation with her unflagging vigilance.

After these affectionate greetings, Dona Lucilia stepped back a bit and looked at her son attentively, with her serene but penetrating gaze. At first Dr. Plinio did not understand the reason for this, but waited and said nothing.

Following a few moments of scrutiny, she concluded with satisfaction:

“Filhão, thank God, you are always the same!”

Everyone then proceeded to the dining room, where Dr. Plinio related his first impressions of the trip while he ate the tasty snack prepared for him.

The aprehensions of a vigilant mother

Dona Lucilia’s touching attitude reveals not only that her virtuous concern for her son’s perseverance did not wane over the years, but rather that it grew, together with her esteem for him.

Notwithstanding knowing him so well, and being sure he was “the best of sons,” she had no illusions about human nature. Therefore, she would never think, “Since Plinio is such a good son and such an exemplary Catholic, there will be no risks for him in Europe; I may rest entirely assured.”

Her vision of reality was more apt to lead her to think,

“It is true that he is a good son, but, like any other man, he can fall. Europe is a continent of seduction and pleasure. He is taking a fair amount of money to spend, and his life in Europe will be very different from here in Brazil. He will eat at fine restaurants, stay at excellent hotels, and will lead a busy social life, frequenting lofty social circles. In museums, he will see many works of art that are decent, but also others that are not. What will cross his sight and his imagination during his travels? Will this old Europe, which he and I admire so much, return my son to me the way he left, or will it leave his spirit marked for the worse?”

These apprehensions, accumulated over the two months since his leave-taking, were dispelled with this instantaneous analysis, carried out, to be precise, much more by the heart than the eyes.

Now, at least, she would have the com fort of her son’s presence. He had so much to tell her about what he had seen in Europe – the marvels of France, the splendours of Rome, the glories of Spain, the charms of Portugal.

However, she would not be able to spend much time in his company. After two months, a friend from another Brazilian state proposed that Dr. Plinio come to work on a project which, in his view, could benefit the Catholic Cause.

Yet another separation

Dr. Plinio did not hold out high hopes for the success of the project, but acquiesced on account of their friendship. These new activities demanded his presence out of state for some time, and accordingly he left in September.

Dona Lucilia faced a new conflict: She wanted her son to succeed, and prayed ardently for this; but, simultaneously she was concerned that if he did succeed, this would inevitably necessitate that he prolong his stay.

Nevertheless, she was disposed to make any sacrifice for the demands of the apostolate. In a letter she sent Dr. Plinio, her words of counsel, seasoned with wisdom, are worthy of note; in them, sentiment gives way to reason.

São Paulo, 28-IX-950

Beloved Son!

Today I went to the Church of St. Anthony, where I received Holy Communion and prayed a great deal for you, so you will fare very happily (…) and may return soon. How our home becomes lifeless and ugly without you! But also, when you come, spring arrives!

Rosée has come frequently, and yesterday, in a “vol d’oiseau,”2 Maria Alice was here. I think you and [your friend] must be very tired with this work (…), and therefore it would be good for [him] and you to come to rest a bit.

After finishing this letter, I intend to go to a movie, to later retell the plot to my beloved son.

As great as my saudades may be, I advise you not to return until you know the result [of the work] there; otherwise, it may seem slighting. When we undertake to do anything, we should do it well and take it to the end. Patience, patience, beloved! Give my affectionate greetings to [your friend].

Well, dear, enough chitchat for today.

With my blessings, I send you many kisses and hugs.

From your devoted mother,

Lucilia

“To live is to be together, to look upon and to love one another”

As Dr. Plinio had feared, groundwork for the project had not been sufficient to obtain results, and he therefore decided to return at once to São Paulo, to the delight of Dona Lucilia.

Even before he informed his mother of the mission’s outcome, his friend, who had come as well, at her invitation, told her in jest that everything had gone well. He thought she would be very pleased, but received only a polite but dispassionate response.

Dr. Plinio took note of Dona Lucilia’s reaction. When alone with her at the time of their chat, he inquired in a filial tone:

“Mãezinha, did you believe him when he told you everything had gone well?”

She replied:

“Yes.”

“I was surprised you did not seem the least bit happy about it.”

She then explained:

“Well, you see, if you had been successful, you would have been obliged to move far away from home and would only be able to come here infrequently. And we would have so much less time to enjoy each other’s company. That would be a great suffering for me. My son, to live is to be together, to look upon and to love one another…”

“To live is to be together, to look upon and to love one another…” These beautiful, luminous words superbly summarize what could be called the “Lucilian” way of life. 

Taken, with minor adaptations, from: Dona Lucilia. Città del Vaticano-Nobleton: LEV; Heralds of the Gospel, 2013, p.468-472

Notes:

1 Born in the 19th century, Dona Lucilia drew on her experiences as a young woman to assess the dangers of an ocean crossing. And these were only heightened at the prospect of an aeroplane voyage! She still had vivid memories of the days when aviation was in its infancy, and fatal accidents were commonplace. And even in 1950, she would have found no comfort in the fact that intercontinental flights had become routine and safe.
2 French for: “flight of a bird,” used figuratively to mean “in passing,” “very briefly.”