Saint Francis Michael of Corona
A story of relentless faith
My late brother Frank, or Frankie, as we called him, passed away at age 66 on January 11, 2024.
Frankie was a Christian mystique who lived a monk-like existence. He didn’t own a computer or a smart phone. He either wrote letters on paper, called via a landline, or visited in person.
On August 8th, 1983, a car smashed into the car he rode in. At the point of impact, he heard his voice say, “The blood of Jesus,” and he walked away from the accident without a scratch.
Some years later, I wrote on a blog, and he sent me a note to post on it:
In late 2020, doctors performed a procedure to fix a rare brain condition I suffered from. The doctor who would preside over it said flatly, “In your case, the odds of it working are almost non-existent.”
My brother spoke to me on the phone the night before my next MRI. On the call, he said to me in a calm voice, “John, the blood of Jesus will heal you.”
A day later, the neurologist called and said the condition was gone. I asked how it left me. Was it the procedure? The doctor said he did not know. He told me to live my life and don’t look back.
Over time, Frankie suffered from many mental and physical ailments, including Parkinson’s and dementia, which made it difficult for him to speak over the past several months. However, the last time we spoke, about a week before he passed away, he spoke perfectly normal.
We talked about opinions that were contrary to the Christian faith, and I asked him how he felt about a Zen master we had mutually listened to. He repeated his mantra about Jesus saving him in 1983, thus shutting down any possibility of him losing his faith.
After he passed away suddenly, I found other letters written decades ago. His words have soothed the symptoms of my grief, renewed my faith, and provided hope for others I shared them with.
Here is an excerpt:
Because the Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need! He lets me rest in the meadow grass and leads me beside the quiet streams.
Where is this place? It’s so peaceful and serene. Warm, gentle breezes. But no people. I feel calm and confident and unafraid. I might as well keep walking. There’s a large lake up ahead, and I notice a small rowboat coming toward me. I knew I had to meet someone eventually! It’s a man rowing. It couldn’t be Jesus because why would God need to row a boat? It must be either Saint Paul or one of the apostles!
The boat comes to shore and the man waves and says, smiling,
Hop in Frankie, I’ve been waiting for you!
We rode out to the middle of the lake, and I started noticing some birds fly overhead.
The man asked me: How do you like it here so far?
And, I said: Oh, it’s wonderful. No car accidents, no planes, no subways, no people, it’s great!
And then the man stopped rowing and put the oars inside the boat.
Wait just a few seconds Frankie, I’ll be right back.
And he took off his sandals and walked on the water! Then he started to run, but he wasn’t sinking. He seemed to be gliding along the surface, touching the water as he ran. I reached my arm down into the water. It was deep and real. Then he came back into the boat, his feet were wet, and he was happy.
I said: You always enjoy doing that, right?
He said: I love it!
You’re Jesus, aren’t you? I asked.
Yes, he said, I am the good shepherd. Welcome to my kingdom.
In another letter, I realize he had what many don’t have, and that is a relentless vision of faith and an acceptance of his life circumstances:
Frankie said:
I can only say so much about the gospels, but it really comes down to your own faith. But I will end by quoting from Matthew, chapter 6, verse 19–21.
Jesus said:
Don’t store up treasures here on earth where they can erode away or maybe be stolen. Store them in heaven where they will never lose their value and are safe from thieves. If your profits are in heaven your heart will be there too.
Yes, Matthew wrote it, but Jesus said it!
Frankie.
My brother lived his life according to the words of Jesus as recorded by the gospel writers. He adorned his apartment with a few family pictures and stacks of books on philosophy, religion, and psychology. He lived his life in contentment, knowing his treasure awaited him in heaven.
In his last months on earth, Parkinson’s caused him to fall on the hard concrete and asphalt of Corona, Queens, leaving him with bruises and gashes in his flesh. I liken his falls to those of Jesus walking his last path on his way to the Kingdom of Heaven.
A friend told me recently, after hearing of Frankie’s life, that there are many among us who go unnoticed and who live saintly lives. My brother walked away from a car wreck and prayed over me, both times citing “The blood of Jesus” with miraculous results.
In my opinion, the combination of his living conditions, miraculous proclamations, and suffering without complaint qualifies him for sainthood.
Therefore, I declare him Saint Francis Michael of Corona, the patron saint of Queens, NY.
In closing, my brother lived his life with the ultimate humility. He loved to read, write, laugh, joke, and spend time with those close to him. It saddens family and friends to know how he suffered, but God’s plan has always been in effect. We are here now to read this article that contains his message of hope.
John Passadino is a writer and producer in the New York metropolitan area. You can find John’s other articles on The Memoirist here on Medium.
