CENTER MORICHES, N.Y. -- The last place I thought I would ever find Ron Foster was in church. But there he was, once again sitting in a pew praying to God. And once again there was one of his sons lying in a casket. Over the course of their life together, Ron and his wife have buried all three of their sons.

They have no more children left to bury.

In a small red church on a country road in Center Moriches, a community came together to say goodbye to Scott Raymond Foster. I came to see why God abandoned this family.

Scott was 47 years old and was part singer, part songwriter, and part nutritionist. He was a husband, a dad, and according to those who knew him best, the light that darkness could not extinguish. 

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When one brother died at the age of seven from pneumonia and a second brother died at the age of 15 from a virus, it was Scott who fished his father out of the now bottomless bottles of bourbon. His dad told Newsday that if not for Scott’s help, “I wouldn’t have been here.”

But now Scott is gone too. Suffolk County officials say a career criminal fleeing police, ran a red light, and slammed his SUV into Scott’s car, killing the last of the Foster’s three children. (Read the Story)

But remarkably, at least to me, the deaths did not kill their faith in God.

“I don’t understand why Scott isn’t here anymore,” says Reverend Kevin P. Von Gonten. “When you think that God allows something to happen and it’s really terrible, do you trust God…that God still loves you?”

Father Kevin, as he is better known, has been the vicar at The Episcopal Church of St. John the Baptist in Center Moriches for the past five years. He doesn’t have the answers to the questions about God and tragedy nor does he pretend to have them. “Believing in God is easy,” he says, “It’s an abstract concept….but the better question is do you trust God. It’s harder to trust God.”

Sandi Asselta was the organist at St John the Baptist for more than 20 years. She is grieving for the Foster family, “I don’t think there is rhyme or reason, I don’t think we were meant to understand it,” she says. As for blaming God for Scott’s death, “I don’t know that God allowed it,” she says, “It happened because of circumstances…it’s not Scott’s fault, it’s not God’s fault..it happened and it’s our place to reconcile that within ourselves.”

That’s not to say there isn’t some anger. Sandi’s husband Ken is struggling with his emotions, “Is there anger? Sure there’s anger but what can you do with that anger? The best thing to do is channel it in the right direction and reach out to help those who have been so hurt by it all. We lost a great fellow here but we’re not angry at God.”

Behind the church, a group of Scott’s friends gathered to share their feelings. There was more laughter than tears. “He’s shining down on us saying, where is the beer?” said Gail Macomber with a broad smile, “It’s not him that we’re worried about because he’s in a better place.” For this group of friends who are working hard to console each other, being angry is part of the healing process. But, again, God is not the target of the hostility. Nancy Prott is trying to help her two daughters understand the tragedy. “We teach our children that God doesn’t make things happen but he helps you get through them when you need them. God is a good God. I don’t think he wants to see us all so sad.”

Father Kevin’s honesty and self-deprecating humor help attract a growing number of newcomers to his little red church and it attracted Scott there as well. Church member Christine Schultz says Father Kevin makes things real, “It’s not all mumbo-jumbo that you don’t understand and you walk away thinking what did he mean by that? It’s real, you know exactly what he means. It’s a wonderful thing,” she says.

And so it was when Father Kevin walked up and hugged Scott’s father after the service. “Scott’s father is grieving at the point of enough is enough,” said Father Kevin, “and that makes perfect sense to me.”

The two men were standing outside, a few feet from the casket, at the back of the hearse. Their conversation was brief. Ron Foster turned to the vicar, exhaled slowly, and said simply, “Someday someone’s going to explain to me why this makes sense.” Father Kevin gently whispered, “yeah, someday somebody will..but not today.”

All photos from 1010 WINS' Ben Mevorach.

Top photo: Scott Foster's wife and three children say their final farewells

Left inset: The Episcopal Church of St. John the Baptist