He handed me the hymnal and asked me if I was ready...if I could do this. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing. I had never planned a funeral, and even if I had imagined planning one it sure wasn't this early in life and it sure wasn't for my only brother, my only sibling. At 25, I felt like a little child getting left behind in a sea of strangers. I was terrified.
2 days prior, my heart stopped beating. 2 short days before this, my peaceful world collided with the dark. And now I had to prepare for the world to say goodbye to greatness. The tree fell in the woods and the world shook with its sudden end. And we, as the collective, needed to imagine that very tree as the beautiful piece of woodwork it now was and bow to it's new exulted shape.
I wasn't sure how to plan a requiem. But, it had been placed in my hands and I wanted to give him the best I could. He deserved it. He deserved life...to live...to breathe still and chase every dream he thought into existence. But I couldn't give him that. I could only give him a sacred requiem.
As a convert to the Catholic faith, I wasn't sure how this worked. I was used to a funeral having a pastor invite someone to read the obituary, a few family members to say nice things, a song that brought up good memories, perhaps a video slide show, and then a message from the pastor.
This intimate reminder of who he was and what he begat inside all of us, was daunting. I opened up the hymnal sitting in front of me and began staring at music notes trying so hard to feel something leap off the page. I wanted something to be easy...to make sense. He and I swam in the love that was music and the deep fountain of the faith together. And I felt so alone.
Until I read those words, "Jesus, my Lord, my God, my all/How can I love Thee as I ought/And how revere this wondrous gift/ So far surpassing hope or thought./Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore./Oh, make us love Thee more and more."
That was it. That was the song. I had never heard it, but the words just spoke to our faith. It spoke to our love for the faith. How often we failed and how often we desired to love Him more. How we truly saw the humanity in our rags...and hope in our immortality.
And this morning, as I knelt just having received this most wondrous gift in the Eucharist, I heard the first few notes of the song we sang the day we all said goodbye. Tears flowing, I was thrust to that very day. Again.
I am struggling this year. For reasons I can't seem to pinpoint. Things seem harder. The deep void where he once was seems more cavernous. The darkness seems more black. Even though it has been 9 years, it seems like this morning. I know I don't walk alone, but this year seems more lonely.
If you have a prayer to spare, I would much appreciate it. Peace, my friends. Peace to you.
2 days prior, my heart stopped beating. 2 short days before this, my peaceful world collided with the dark. And now I had to prepare for the world to say goodbye to greatness. The tree fell in the woods and the world shook with its sudden end. And we, as the collective, needed to imagine that very tree as the beautiful piece of woodwork it now was and bow to it's new exulted shape.
I wasn't sure how to plan a requiem. But, it had been placed in my hands and I wanted to give him the best I could. He deserved it. He deserved life...to live...to breathe still and chase every dream he thought into existence. But I couldn't give him that. I could only give him a sacred requiem.
As a convert to the Catholic faith, I wasn't sure how this worked. I was used to a funeral having a pastor invite someone to read the obituary, a few family members to say nice things, a song that brought up good memories, perhaps a video slide show, and then a message from the pastor.
This intimate reminder of who he was and what he begat inside all of us, was daunting. I opened up the hymnal sitting in front of me and began staring at music notes trying so hard to feel something leap off the page. I wanted something to be easy...to make sense. He and I swam in the love that was music and the deep fountain of the faith together. And I felt so alone.
Until I read those words, "Jesus, my Lord, my God, my all/How can I love Thee as I ought/And how revere this wondrous gift/ So far surpassing hope or thought./Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore./Oh, make us love Thee more and more."
That was it. That was the song. I had never heard it, but the words just spoke to our faith. It spoke to our love for the faith. How often we failed and how often we desired to love Him more. How we truly saw the humanity in our rags...and hope in our immortality.
And this morning, as I knelt just having received this most wondrous gift in the Eucharist, I heard the first few notes of the song we sang the day we all said goodbye. Tears flowing, I was thrust to that very day. Again.
I am struggling this year. For reasons I can't seem to pinpoint. Things seem harder. The deep void where he once was seems more cavernous. The darkness seems more black. Even though it has been 9 years, it seems like this morning. I know I don't walk alone, but this year seems more lonely.
If you have a prayer to spare, I would much appreciate it. Peace, my friends. Peace to you.
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