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His sight was fading, but he still made out the square of white.
"Forget it, Padre," he rasped. "I got nothing to say to Him."
The priest spoke softly, "What makes you say that?"
"Bastard took everyone I ever loved."
"Maybe he needed them… to come home."
"Home," he snorted. "Sam never came home."
"But he was never far from you."
"How would you know?"
The priest whispered, "I am Sam."
Then he saw: the muddy green eyes, the white forelock.
"Sam?"
He felt himself gathered into strong arms, heard the words, "Let's go home."
The blue light embraced them.