A mother's 'heart' is resting in peace with Jesus

One of the gifts of her office space on the third floor of Jesuit High School is its location – just 10 steps down a sacristy hallway from the altar of the Chapel of the North American Martyrs, where in August theology teacher Susan de Boisblanc bid farewell to her “heart.”

Nearly two months after the death of her 24-year-old son Ben, who was born with Kabuki Syndrome, a rare congenital disorder that affects learning, speech and motor skills, de Boisblanc, co-moderator of the Jesuit pro-life club, finds herself, like Mary, sitting at the foot of the cross.

“Actually, in my off periods, I go sit between the altar and the tabernacle and cry,” de Boisblanc says. “So, I teach and I cry; I teach and I cry. And, sometimes, I just sit where his little casket was, and I just look up at the tabernacle. Some days, I’m not sure how I’m still going. He was my heart, and he knew that.”

There were a lot of amazing things about Ben, de Boisblanc says.

“It’s funny, for a kid who couldn’t figure out how much a quarter was worth, that child could say the entire Mass in Latin,” de Boisblanc said. “He watched Mass all the time.”

In 2010, at the age of 11, Ben was sitting in the pew at St. Louis King of France Church with his parents and grandparents, Pat and Ken Martinez, when he got the urge to join his older brothers Charles Jr. and Joshua on the altar to serve at the school Mass.

Ben had the day off from St. Michael’s Special School that day, and Deacon Wilbur Martinez consulted with then-pastor Father Bernie Terrebonne about the possibility.

“We’re going to let Ben carry the cross,” Deacon “Marty” told Ben’s mother.

Seeing three of her sons in their white albs serving Mass together for the first time unleashed a mother’s waterworks.

Ben loved the Mass so much that at home, he would slip over his head a kid-sized, red chasuble and, with the dining room table serving as his altar, recite the Eucharistic Prayer from memory. He also served Mass at St. Dominic, at Jesuit and at the 6:30 a.m. daily Mass in the convent chapel of the Sister Servants of Mary.

Ben regularly served at the Saturday Mass celebrated by Jesuit president Father John Brown, who after Communion would sing the “Salve Regina” to honor the Blessed Mother.

“Ben didn’t know the words to the ‘Salve Regina,’ but he knew the tune, and basically Ben’s rendition was really, really loud,” de Boisblanc recalled, laughing. “Ben would throw a word in every now and then, and Father Brown would start laughing and then try not to laugh. The more Father Brown tried not to laugh, Ben would get louder and louder, and the more Father Brown would laugh. Finally, Ben looked at Father Brown and said, ‘Get it together, Padre!’”

When Ben was 15 and his behavior became increasingly aggressive and less predictable, de Boisblanc and her husband Charles felt compelled to make a heart-rending decision. They sent their son to live at St. Mary’s Residential Training School outside of Alexandria, Louisiana, where he had his own room with a TV, an on-campus chapel, a swimming pool and horses.

“It broke my heart to put him at St. Mary’s, but I knew it was a good place and it was Catholic, and I also knew he needed to learn to live independently of me,” de Boisblanc said. “One of Ben’s teachers at St. Michael’s, Becky Francione, first encouraged me to look into St. Mary’s, and I told her, ‘There’s no way I could do that. I can’t be away from him.’ But it was what he needed, and I knew that.”

Ben attended Alexandria Senior High School, where he received a Louisiana state diploma and where students in the Best Buddies program took him bowling and to football games.

One day, an Alexandria High teacher asked Ben what he wanted to be.

“He said he wanted to be a priest,” de Boisblanc said. “He didn’t have the ability to become a priest, but he loved serving God in whatever way he could.”

Mary memories
Among thousands of cherished photographs is the one of Ben carrying a clutch of flowers to crown a statue of Mary in his grandparents’ Gentilly backyard. From Alexandria, he would call his mother 10 or 12 times a day, sometimes repeating the same conversation.

“There were so many ‘I love yous,’” de Boisblanc said. “And I would say, ‘You’re my what, buddy?’ And, he’d say, ‘My heart and my soul!’ And I would say, ‘Who loves you the most – Jesus?’ And he’d say, ‘Mama!’”

Ben was buried in a white altar server’s alb and surplice, his hands draped by the rosary of a late Jesuit priest that was given to him at 15. Ben, whose godmother is Marianite Sister Ann Martinez, loved reciting the luminous mysteries of the rosary.

God winks
At Ben’s visitation, Raquel Rouse, a mother de Boisblanc knew from St. Michael’s, came up to share her condolences. Raquel’s son Michael and Ben had been best friends but had not seen each other in years. Michael had no idea Ben had died.

On the drive home from the second day of school in August, Michael told his mother: “My friend Ben was at Mass today.”

“No, honey, Ben moved away,” Raquel replied.

“Mom, my friend Ben was serving at Mass today,” Michael insisted.

Another of Ben’s friends, Brynn Winter, told her mother that after his death, she heard Ben whispering quietly in her ear.

“Brynn, I want you to be an altar server like me,” Ben told her. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to help you.”

Armed with fresh confidence, Brynn went to St. John Bosco Parish and became an altar server. She will also serve during an Oct. 3 Mass at St. Michael’s when the Winter family will make a donation to the school in Ben’s honor. Also after the Mass, Ben’s grandfather Ken, a member of the Monday Night Disciples, will unveil two swings that the group hand-crafted for the students.

“This child, who many people in this world would say was ‘useless,’ ‘a burden,’ ‘better off dead,’ touched so many people and brought so many people to the Lord,” de Boisblanc said. “There was never a time when he was on the altar that I didn’t have someone say, ‘It’s so nice to see him up there. He’s beautiful.’ What a great blessing. I used to look at him and say, ‘God, how did you make something so beautiful? He’s perfect. He really is.’”

Human dignity
One of the first study areas of the Catholic bioethics class de Boisblanc teaches is the theoretical underpinning of Nazi medicine. Students watch a documentary on the Nazis’ Aktion T4 program aimed at sterilizing and then euthanizing people with disabilities and special needs.

“The students have to see what in today’s modern world is similar to what was going on there and start addressing what we’re doing today,” de Boisblanc said.

Ben died unexpectedly on Sunday, Aug. 6, the Feast of the Transfiguration.

“My baby was transfigured,” de Boisblanc said.

A therapist working with Ben once asked de Boisblanc what she wanted for her son.

“Heaven,” de Boisblanc replied.

“No, I mean, what do you want for your son?”

“Heaven,” she repeated. “That’s my job. How could I ask for more? I’m grateful to God that he has my beautiful child. I’m so thankful, and I’m not angry. I’m at peace. Just the thing that tears me apart is that I miss him now, but I know that every day is a step toward not only God, but also a step toward my baby.”

De Boisblanc and her husband Charles attend the 7:15 a.m. daily Mass in the Jesuit chapel.

“I told Ben I would meet him in the Eucharist every day, and I do that,” she said. “It’s like holding hands with Ben through Jesus. He’s in the heart of Jesus – and when I receive the Blessed Sacrament, so am I.”

Teaching class has helped. Then, there are the off periods.

“Grief speaks loudly at night, she really does,” de Boisblanc said.

At the foot of the cross, a mother sits and waits.

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