The Holy Souls have made it! Though they are in Purgatory, now they are assured of everlasting life in the Kingdom of God. They wait. But is it not a comfortable wait. "Purgatory cleanses venial sins, imperfections, faults and flaws and remits the temporal punishment of mortal sins that have been forgiven in the Sacrament of Penance."

How can we help the Holy Souls, our beloved who have gone before us? Prayer, of course. Spiritual Works of Mercy. And Corporal Works of Mercy, too.

I am thinking of one work in particular - - to illuminate the darkness of another person's life; that those who live in the darkness of old age, disease, loneliness, or rejection may see the great light of Christ shining in their lives through our "little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love." And, most important, to offer these gifts of kindness to God without any desire
for praise or recognition or reward. Without expecting even a "thank you."

I remember a story of a family of four visiting the grandmother at Christmas time. The mother, the father, the son about nineteen and the younger daughter, had brought presents.

But the grandmother was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. It darkens and dulls the brain. It's irreversible and terminal.

The parents made all kinds of small talk, but there was no response from the grandmother at all. She just stared into the distance. Finally they opened the presents. There was a bathrobe, slippers, shawl. The son gave her a photo album; placed it gently on her lap. Even then there was no reaction.

Finally with a sigh, the mother made some lame excuse about the turkey in the oven; so they gave her a peck and left the room. The young man was the last to leave. When the others had gone, he came back to his grandmother, knelt beside her and held her hand.

"Do you remember at Halloween; how you'd let me stay up late? We'd have cider and those wonderful chocolate-chip cookies you used to bake. And we'd watch the horror show together. Or the summer we had the cottage at Fairfield Beach? You'd show me the tidal pools - - the shiners and minnows and fiddler-crabs. And you'd recite `The Chambered Nautilus.'

"Or the summer we went to the Rangeley Lakes in Maine. One day we couldn't catch any fish. Nobody could? You told me to row to shore. We put some rocks in the boat and rowed to a hidden cove.

`I'll show you how to catch fish.' you said. `They're asleep. Taking a nap at the bottom of the pool. We've got to wake them up. So let's throw the rocks overboard.'

"And sure enough in half an hour we'd caught our limit. Remember?" But, the grandmother's dull, distant stare didn't change. The young man squeezed her hand and kissed it. "I just wanted you to know, Granny, that I love you." He kissed her cheek, got up and left. However, as soon as the door closed, she stopped rocking. Her face lost that faraway look. She glanced down at the presents; she fingered the photo album. She smiled. A warm, gentle smile of remembrance. She nodded and whispered, "Yes, I remember."

The young man, her grandson, never saw the smile of recognition. He never knew that his remembrance of summers past had given her a few moments of sunshine and joy.

What a gift! To illuminate the darkness in another's life by little acts of kindness that, at their best, are unseen by others and for which we receive no word of thanks. Hidden acts, noticed and remembered only by God.

Yet, those little acts of prayer, those "little nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love" will help our loved ones to know the rapture of Paradise.