What death brings with our goodbyes

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)