I was stunned when I received the news of Father Henry’s passing, and tears came to my eyes as I recalled memories of him.

Thinking of Father Henry is seeing him always with a big smile —a smile that drew you in, someone who made you feel at ease, someone who truly showed himself to be a “soul belonging to God,” (“Alma de Dios”) as we say in Spanish, someone very close to God. You could talk to him about anything, because he would always bring the conversation to God, to the spiritual, to what was truly important. He had that gift, that virtue of seeing God in everything.

Our family had the grace of hosting Father Henry and the Servant Brothers at our house on two occasions, in 2007 and 2010, both for the boys’ camps in that area. From those moments we have wonderful memories of his constant joy during our conversations, while playing (he even taught us some games), eating, but above all laughing and having a fantastic time. On his first visit, he blessed the house we had just bought (he told us it was the first house he had ever blessed) and also celebrated Mass with us and our friends… truly special and holy moments.

I remember when my wife and I participated in the Thanksgiving retreat in Florida, and he was giving a talk about love, ágape. We sat in the second row so we could hear every word. I usually have a pen and paper to take notes, but that day, for some reason, I had neither. Then I realized I could write on my phone, in the Notes app, so I did. I’m not very fast at writing, so most of the time I was looking at my phone to avoid mistakes. Father Henry, who was giving the talk, could see everyone, of course, and he could see me looking at my phone. For about five minutes, he watched me more interested in my phone than in what he was saying, and with his saintly patience and a smile he said, looking at me: “Mr. Pezzo, what is it you have there?” (my last name is spelled with one ‘z’, but I loved hearing him pronounce it with two).

Well, as we all know, sometimes things aren’t what they seem. It took me a while to convince him that I was following his talk perfectly, and like a small child I had to show him what I had written on my phone. It was a funny little anecdote, and I still have his talk saved on my phone. He ended it by asking all of us: “Pray, pray, pray, always pray… Mr. Pezzo…”

I remember Father Henry at another retreat telling us how he had injured himself in a fall, breaking his jaw and losing several teeth, requiring dental surgery to reconstruct it. At that time, we could see a gap between his two front teeth, and he told us that God has a great sense of humor. He could only take liquids; he couldn’t chew, and the gap between his teeth was perfectly sized so he could sip his food through a straw. He saw God in everything.

Father Henry will always have a special place in our family. We will miss his joy, his humility, his understanding, his advice, his funny remarks, his spirituality, his holiness.