Dr. Basu in this story is really much more like my own husband, Greg. Greg is an architect. I often imagine his brain to look like a drafting board with a blueprint on it—or sometimes I picture him with drawings/plans floating above his head. He is very pensive. He doesn’t say very much, but when he does, I can’t help but listen. He’s always deconstructing things and asking questions. We spend a lot of time together watching scientific documentaries and listening to NPR. And like Dr. Basu and Cathleen, Greg and I had an interesting start. He too met me when I was a single mom. Like Dr. Basu, Greg fell in love with Brigid in no time at all, and he was so wonderful with her. It was like they were destined to be together. They have a very special bond. Sometimes I feel like an outsider looking in, but it’s great to bear witness to it. They are great friends. It was wonderful to become a family the way we did. I couldn’t imagine it any other way now. Greg is a wonderful father. The best there is. My children are incredibly lucky.
COLM
Colm is a hybrid of both of my children. I chose the name Colm for two reasons—one, it is my favorite name in the world (hence, why I named my son Colm) because of its beautiful meaning and significance; and, two, because it would literally drive me insane to say my son’s name to people and they would say it right back to me, as if correcting me, and say, “You mean Coal-m.” “No, I mean Col-um.” How hard is it really to say, Colm? You’d be amazed. I hope to popularize the name a bit, but also share with people the story of a truly incredible boy—Colm Magee.
My own son, Colm, collapsed in a bathtub and stopped breathing several years ago. It is a moment I will never, ever forget. Mostly because the moment felt (looking back) like hours. It was truly only moments. But he was blue, gone, lifeless. All I remember was screaming his name. I felt the world literally spinning around me. I will never, ever forget how his body looked lying on my bed, wet and blue. It terrifies me even to write about it—as if doing so will make it all happen again. Writing about it helps, though. And that’s exactly why I write about it. It takes the edge off. It makes it all less frightening, because when I write about it, I have some control over the outcome!
While Colm’s medical condition in the book is an extremely rare condition, I do suffer from a form of malignant neurocardiogenic syncope caused by dysautonomia. It wasn’t a stretch for me to talk about all the medical tests, the office visits, or what it feels like to collapse, because I’ve been there and done that—over a hundred times—and counting.
Finally, the allegorical—and physical—search for the father is not foreign in the least to me. My daughter has grown up the majority of her life without having seen or knowing her biological father. He consented to the termination of his legal rights to her when she was an infant, and about a year later, we ceased contact for a number of reasons. Brigid has not seen him since she was two years old, but surprisingly she has memories of her brief visits with him as a toddler. However, unlike the character Colm, who was kept largely in the dark about his father, my daughter knows everything, and if she’s old enough to ask a question, I figure she’s old enough to hear the answer. We’ve always been open, and she feels comfortable about sharing her feelings. She does receive letters and packages from her biological father quite regularly, and over time she has developed a relationship with his mother and sisters. Over the years, however, she has asked me hundreds of questions, not unlike Colm Magee’s many questions, about her own father. In fact, many of the questions young Colm Magee asks have come right out of my own daughter’s mouth—word for word. She has ached, longed, and wondered, not unlike other children who have always felt a part of themselves missing. I would say one of the most painful parts of being a mother to a child whose father has chosen not to be around is to convince the child that it’s not her fault he left. But I know no matter how much I love her and care for her, a part of her is always a little sad, a little broken—and always wondering and longing for that mysterious father.
But Colm’s quest for the father is not just a physical one either. It’s emblematic of all our quests. For those of us who believe, want to believe, or just don’t know if there is a God, we all have to wonder, what type of parent is he/she? We just want to know him/her.
Why do your characters go on a pilgrimage and a road trip?
It’s totally clichéd, but faith is a journey. It’s a road, a quest, an adventure. Some of us travel the world over looking for meaning, beauty, truth—a piece of heaven on earth, and often we discover it’s not so far away after all. It was important for me to juxtapose the journey to Italy, which represented a spiritual healing, against the road trip across the United States, which on the surface was for a scientific (medical) healing but ended up being a healing of souls through friendship and love. I traveled throughout the United States during college and afterward, and it was on the road that the world and all its beauty revealed itself to me. I often found that my most “spiritual” moments weren’t actually in a church, but on the precipice of a mountain cliff, near a crashing surf, in a field of cranes with miles between me and the rest of the world. And often, I found my moments of truth and beauty took place—more often than not— when I was sharing it with another person whom I loved.
In 2008, I did have the opportunity through my day job (for the Province of St. John the Baptist) to go on a pilgrimage to Assisi and Rome. I met some of the most amazing people I have ever known while on that trip. I never intended to make friends or be transformed by friendship, but that is exactly what happened for me. It was at night—on the roof overlooking Assisi—that my spiritual healing began. I realized through talking to a mother whose son had died a year earlier that love and faith and truth reside in the heart, and through her eyes, I came to understand we are all nothing more than broken hearts wondering and hoping for healing and belonging.
While I went through the healing rituals on the pilgrimage, I was reluctant, to say the least. The inner skeptic emerged at every turn, and I was looking for a scientific or practical reason for every miracle I learned about or every legend or story I heard. But I will admit something overwhelming happened to me in one church. In a small chapel outside of Assisi in a place where Francis tended to lepers, I knelt down and, I guess, I attempted to “not pray.” I wanted to do what our pilgrimage leader had kept advising us to do—just listen. While I was kneeling there and thinking about the history of the building and all the pilgrims from all over the world who had sat where I was sitting, a rush came over me. And I could have sworn I heard a voice say, “Write about me.” But I know it was my brain telling me, Someday I will have to put pen to paper and write about this experience. I doubt it was St. Frank talking to me in the leper colony, but a part of me still wonders . . . Who knows, maybe all of this—this book, this story—is because of that trip? I have no idea. A writer doesn’t question her inspiration—she just hopes to get it!
So which is it? Faith or reason?
The juxtaposition of faith and reason in the book is no accident. Each character has a different way to believe, to understand his or her world. Each, regardless of his or her religion, or lack thereof, has to wrestle with the big questions: Why are we here? Where do we go? How come all of this is so hard? I don’t think there is a person out there who hasn’t wondered these things. The push and pull between faith and reason, the heart and the brain if you will, is the ultimate quandary. I have always been torn between the two myself—my heart and brain often want entirely different things—physically and metaphysically. And one always seems to win out. It’s the rare times in life when the heart and brain are in sync—that we feel like “we have it figured out” (if only for two seconds!). I do believe there is a place for both—the rational and the irrational, or rather the unknowable. My favorite quote of all time is by Socrates. It loosely translates to “I know that I do not know.” Yes, knowing that one doesn’t know opens an entire universe of figuring out, hoping, believing, dreaming, and perhaps, ultimately truly “knowing.” So my answer is really a que
stion too: So what do you think/feel?
What’s with malaria? Can people really die from a mosquito bite?
I have had more than one reader say to me, “Can a person really die of malaria—even a doctor’s child?” The answer is—sadly—absolutely. In fact, half of the world is at risk for malaria, 250 million people get it every year, and out of that—1 million die (World Health Organization). Those in developing countries are at the highest risk, and often the poor suffer most. The disease is treatable with medication, but many communities simply don’t have access to the medication. Prevention is another issue—something as simple as mosquito nets can help reduce the risk of malaria. Malaria just doesn’t kill people, it affects a nation’s birth weight/infant mortality rates, general population growth, and health of the global economy. It’s essentially everyone’s problem. I wanted to illustrate with Dr. Basu that the loss of one child is not just felt by a parent, it’s felt by an entire community; and when more people are made aware, it can be felt by the world. And I also wanted to illustrate that the loss of any one particular child is no less significant than another. A middle-class mother from New York City grieves no more than an impoverished mother across the globe. The loss of a child is a universal loss. The pain and memories imbed themselves and never leave. In a world where we see images of suffering people daily, we can become immune to the sufferings of others, or lose the sense of urgency to help others. When we make stories personal, suddenly they do become more urgent.
I also had a reader tell me she thought Dr. Basu’s backstory was contrived and forced—that death to malaria simply doesn’t happen anymore and that the story wasn’t even necessary. But, I thought, who would Dr. Basu be if he didn’t have that story? I couldn’t imagine. To me so much of his vision of the world links back to the initial suffering. How like us is he? How many of us can point to a moment in our life when we felt the rug pulled out from underneath us, a moment when everything we ever thought we knew to be true, simply wasn’t? Dr. Basu was a rational man, a happy and content one, but the loss of his son transformed him. I don’t think he would have met and bonded with Cathleen or her son if he hadn’t been transformed, and I don’t think he would have fallen in love with them if he hadn’t been transformed again.
Reading Group Guide
Introduction
Proof of Heaven is as much a story of a mother and child, and their quest for healing and love, as it is a story that resembles all of our quests to understand life’s Big Questions: Why are we here? Where do we go when we die? And why is all of this so hard? Each main character—Dr. Basu, Sean, Cathleen, and Colm—and even minor characters, like the Monsignor and Pierce, all participate in this quest, but each character begins at a different starting point and each comes to his or her own realization of what indeed is proof of heaven.
Questions for Discussion
1. Proof of Heaven opens with several quotations, one of them by Blaise Pascal: “The Heart has reasons that Reason does not know.” Why do you think the author picked this quotation? What do you think the quotation means? How does this quotation relate to the story, the theme of the book, and each character’s particular journey? Can you relate to these words? Has there ever been a time in your life that you felt your heart and mind wanted different things? Do you find yourself torn between the two? Are you more apt to follow your heart or your mind?
2. Each character has a different way of approaching his or her faith in God and of thinking about what happens when we die. What does Cathleen believe? What does Colm? Dr. Basu? Sean? The Monsignor? Do you identify with any of these characters’ approaches to his or her belief? Does anyone’s belief system particularly bother or upset you? Why? Do you see yourself or any of your loved ones in any of the characters? What are your beliefs? Do you feel they fit into any particular religion? Why or why not?
3. How do you think Cathleen and Sean’s religion informs (or doesn’t inform) their beliefs? They are both Catholic, but they have very different perspectives on their religion and their faith. Whether you are Catholic or not, can you identify with the characters’ struggles to make sense of the religion they have been raised to believe in but come to feel differently about as they have grown up and experienced it?
4. Dr. Basu was raised a Hindu but becomes an agnostic. What changed his belief? Does he transform again?
5. Colm doesn’t believe in anything at first. What do you think he comes to believe in the end? And do you believe in a higher power or God?
6. Do you think Sean’s call to become a priest was real? Do you believe people can be called by God to a vocation? Why or why not? What changed in him?
7. Do you think religion offers a reasonable framework to discover God? Do you feel that a religion is necessary to experience the divine? Why or why not?
8. Compare and contrast the relationships that Cathleen has with her son, her brother, Monsignor, and Dr. Basu. How does she interact with them differently? Similarly? Why do you think so?
9. Each character has the opportunity to interact individually with another character at least once in the story. For example, Colm has several one-on-one conversations with his mother, Dr. Basu, and Sean. Sean gets to talk to his sister, Dr. Basu, and Colm one-on-one as well. And Dr. Basu forms unique bonds with Colm, Cathleen, and Sean through several intimate conversations. While all of the characters ultimately end up on the journey together as a group, which individual friendship struck you most? Dr. Basu and Sean? Dr. Basu and Colm? Cathleen and Dr. Basu? Cathleen and Colm? Which relationship did you respond to most positively? Why?
10. When the story begins, Cathleen and Colm are very much alone. Colm’s father is gone and Cathleen’s parents are gone. Cathleen is the center of Colm’s universe, and Colm is the center of hers. How does their “universe” expand over the course of the story? Who becomes part of it? Who do you think becomes the “center of gravity” by the end of the story? Or is any single person the center? Why do you think that?
11. Throughout the story, the universe—its expansion, form, and matter—is alluded to in connection with characters, the plot, and even the human heart. Did you ever think of the heart as an “electric” organ, or did you ever conceive of the electricity and energy of the stars being compared to that of the human heart and brain? How does each character embody this connection? Which scenes do you find illustrate this relationship best?
12. In this story, the author intended to juxtapose the earth and sky, or earthly and heavenly pursuits, in the story’s characters and settings. She designed each character to represent the elements of earth, wind, fire, and water. Cathleen embodies the concept of mutability and water. What about her is mutable or changing? Does she strike you as someone who transforms or changes often in situations? Does she ever appear with or by water? What do you think the significance is in each of these water scenes? Dr. Basu is very much grounded to the earth. He’s a pragmatic man who looks for his answers in the world that’s at his fingertips, through science and empirical data. Which scenes strike you and show you that he is rooted to the earth? Does he ever seem to change and take on other elements as he grows and opens his heart to the other characters? Sean embodies all that is explosive—his attitude, early calling (and later his addictions), anger, passion, and even his profession are linked to fire. Which scenes stand out for you when Sean exhibits this element? Colm embodies the wind, or the spirit. His name even means “dove” or “peace.” What part of the story strikes you as Colm most embodying “the spirit”? Do any of the characters transform at all or take on other elements throughout the story? Where? How?
13. The author also modeled the characters in another way— after familiar characters in Judeo-Christian tradition. Cathleen, whose Gaelic name means “pure one,” represents Mary, the mother of Jesus; and Sean represents at various times both Joseph, the foster father entrusted with the earthly care of Jesus, and later the trusted disciple John, whom Jesus charges with caring for Mary at Jesus’s death. (In Gaelic,
Sean means “John.”) Dr. Basu, or Gaspar, represents the wise man from the East (most probably from the country that is now India), and he embodies the gifts, wisdom, and protection offered to the child Jesus. Did you see the connections in the story? Does Colm strike you as Christlike? What about him reminds you of the story of Jesus? What doesn’t? Which parts of the story sound familiar—something you may have heard in the Gospels or seen in familiar Christian stories?
14. Throughout the story, the author juxtaposes heavenly and earthly settings. Where does each character find he or she is closest to the divine? Which character finds solace in church? In nature? In the presence of other people? In his or her own mind? Where do you feel closest to the divine? In a church? By the shore? Under a night sky? Amid nature’s phenomena? In the arms of a loved one? In the eyes of a child?
15. Cathleen, Dr. Basu, and Colm travel to Italy to try a healing ritual at a place where many miracles have been alleged to happen. Do you think it was responsible of Cathleen to put Colm through such an ordeal? Do you believe in miracles? Have you ever prayed for a miracle or experienced one? Do you think Colm’s “miracle” was realized? In Italy? Or on his road trip? What do you think makes a miracle a miracle?
16. Colm’s quest to find his father resembles the larger quest of all of humanity’s attempt to understand where we come from and where we are headed. Most of us have feelings about whether we believe or don’t believe in God. Colm doesn’t believe in heaven but he hasn’t given up hope in finding his father. Do you think we are all a little like Colm: reluctant believers who deep down want to know or believe that someone is out there, loving us from afar and keeping us within their benevolent arms? Does Colm find what he is looking for? What do you think? Have you found what you’re looking for?
17. Do you think the characters in this story find proof of heaven? Where and when does Cathleen? At what point do you see her character make a dramatic turn? When does Sean become transformed? Do you think he overcomes his physical and spiritual proverbial demons with alcohol addiction? Does Dr. Basu become transformed? Where and when? What is significant about this moment? Where is he and who is he with? How does this relate to Dr. Basu’s oscillation between the earth and sky, the mind and heart? What about Colm? Do you think he goes to heaven? Or do you think it is just a dream, a chemical reaction in his dying brain? Do you think he believes in God? Do you think he finds his father?
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