A widow, a prostitute and a nun

Annie was 16 when she married. She married for love. And because she was pregnant. She and Johnny, her husband, had been married for 10 years when he had a heart attack and died. Birth defect in his heart. He was only 30 when he died. She was 26. He left her alone with three kids to feed (9, 8 and 6) and no money in the bank. She had never worked, had never even graduated high school. She was terrified. Her parents, devout Catholics, had disowned her when she got pregnant and she hadn’t spoken to them since she was 16. She had no friends to speak of. She’d never needed more than Johnny and her babies. She didn’t know how she was going to take care of them.

And then she did. The landlord came for the rent the day after she buried her husband.

“Mr. Coates, I am so sorry. I don’t have the rent money. I had to use what we had to bury Johnny and buy groceries. I have a little left, but,” and then she burst into tears. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” she wailed.

Mr. Coates, scum of the earth that he was, had had his eye on pretty little Annie since she had the mister had moved in five years before.

“Well, now, missie, no need to cry,” he said as he slipped through the door, closing it behind him. “I’m sure we can figure out something.”

And they did. He would come once or twice a week when the kids were at school, and they lived in the house, rent free. He introduced her to some friends, who would also visit when the kids were at school, so she could make money for groceries. Clothes for the kids. School trip money. Visits to the hair and nail salon to keep her pretty and her…guests, happy.

She raised her children and even saved money to send them to college. She doesn’t know how they never found out. Never asked her how they survived without Johnny. Maybe they did know, but they never did confront her. For that she was eternally grateful.

Her youngest was 17 when she graduated from high school and got a scholarship to the University of North Carolina. Three high school graduates. Two already in college, one on the way. She was so proud of them.

They were all a little surprised the day she sat them down and told them she was joining a convent.

“But, Mom,” said the youngest Lanie, “you were married.”

“You have kids,” said Robert.

“So, clearly you had sex at least three times,” said the comedian and eldest, John.

“You don’t have to be a virgin and it’s alright if you were once married as long as you’re not now. Or ever again, of course,” Annie replied.

“But why, ma? A nun? We’re not even Catholic,” said, Lanie, “Are we?”

“What are we anyway?” asked John. “You never took us to church growing up.”

“I know, and I will spend a lot of time on my knees asking forgiveness for that…and all my other sins,” Annie replied. “I was raised Catholic.”

“What sins, Ma? There’s no one better than you,” said Robert, pulling his mother up and hugging her close. She burst into tears. They all stared not knowing what to say. They had never seen their mother cry.

Annie was 40 when she saw her last child graduate from college. That same day, she packed a small bag and drove over the convent of the Sisters of Mercy.

She died, August 13, 2020, at the age of 80. Her obituary read:

Sister Anne Delancy, beloved widow of John Delancy; devoted mother of John Delancy, Jr., Robert Delancy and Elaine Delancy White; grandmother of Peter, Michael and David; great-grandmother of Ralph, James and Anna. Faithful sister of the Sisters of Mercy.

May her soul rest in eternal peace.