My father died a
year ago at 79 and most recently my father-in-law who was 89 died on Aug. 20.
Several co-workers have also suffered the loss of a loved one this past year.
We have become too familiar with one of the seven corporal works of mercy, that
of burying the dead.
Each of us is
walking a different grief journey, but we do not walk alone. With each funeral
I attend I become more cognizant of the graces that come from each part of the
funeral ritual. I have come to understand the beauty inherent in each funeral.
I confess I was surprised when I first heard someone describe a funeral as
beautiful. How could an occasion tied to death and grieving be beautiful? Is it
the flowers, the music, the readings, the eulogies? It is and so much more.
Death comes entwined
with multifaceted layers as we grieve the loss of someone we loved, a mother,
father, grandmother, grandfather, child. It is a good bye to the person we loved
as they “leave the body and go home to the Lord” (2 Cor 5:8). Tears flood us,
memories emerge, and in the midst of our grief, some of us still shocked and
numb, we are surrounded by family and friends who help us find space to
celebrate. Together we celebrate life, the gift of the one we loved in our
lives and the life God has given to each of us.
In preparation for
my father-in-law’s funeral, we gathered photos for a slideshow. The photos
streamed forth with images of a life well lived. As the patriarch, his legacy
is marked by a strong work ethic and unwavering love and commitment to his wife
of 64 years, his five children (all adults and married now), 12 grandchildren
and seven great grandchildren. From teaching his grandchildren how to ride a
bike or keeping them busy with wood projects, he devoted countless hours making
sure not to miss any milestones. Even those of us who married into the family
came to see him as a second father. He was a constant presence in each of our
lives. So as we cried, we also celebrated what he gave to the world.
Additionally, death
makes us pause, reminds us of our pilgrim status. It is a reminder of our
mortality, our “memento mori,” Latin for “remember that you have to die.” More
than a reminder, it should shake us to ask ourselves “how we are living our own
life. What will be our legacy?”
After my father
died, I was overwhelmed by the number of people who took the time to accompany
our family for the funeral services. To this day I am most thankful for each
person who was present in some way – each hug, prayer, condolence card, meal,
flowers, phone call. Your kindness will always be remembered.
As the U.S.
Conference of Catholic Bishops notes, “Funerals give us the opportunity to
grieve and show others support during difficult times. Through our prayers and actions during these
times we show our respect for life, which is always a gift from God, and
comfort to those who mourn.”
How beautiful that
we do not walk alone. God is present every step of the way. Family and friends
too give us strength as we deal with death. The presence of the people in our
lives who pause from their own day-to-day commitments to accompany us on our
journey brings light to darkness. This as well is cause for celebration, as it
gives us hope for the days ahead.
Lydia Pesina from
our Family Life Office gave me a journal a year ago, “The New Day Journal: A
journey from grief to healing” by Mauryeen O’Brian, which has been most
helpful. After the loss of Lydia’s mother, and later her brother, we met
together over the course of a year with another friend to work through what the
book refers to as the “four tasks of mourning.” While we know that death is not
the end and we have hope in the resurrection, death for those of us who remain
is painful.
Death can also be a
transformative experience. My mother’s death more than 20 years ago instilled
in me the urgency of living each moment as a gift. Each death that has followed
emphasizes the lesson. Each life we celebrate at each funeral reminds us life
is a gift, a gift we have to honor by living it the best we can. Pope Francis,
in this Year of Mercy, prompts us to live it the best we can serving others.
Death brings us
bitter-sweet moments. I have found it is most helpful to count my blessings daily.
It is important as well to be there for family and friends who experience a
loss. As we journey together, I know in time, grief and darkness will loosen
its grip and light will fill our days.
St. Augustine prayed, “There are days…when our lives have no music in
them and our hearts are lonely, and our souls have lost their courage. Flood
the path with light, we beseech thee Lord. Turn our eyes to where the heavens
are full of promise.”
(Originally published
in September 2016 edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper)
