Bennett's Funeral. I will honestly tell you I do not remember much about that specific day. I was so hopeless. I woke up and began to get in the shower only to find myself laying in my parent's bathroom wrapped in a towel. How can this be my life? How am I choosing a dress to wear to my son's funeral? How? Why? What did I do in my life to deserve such an unthinkable and unimaginable day? My best friend found me. She picked my limp shell of a body off the floor and just hugged me. I then began repeating my thoughts to her aloud. How? Why? Is this really what is happening? She cried with me. Started running the water for my shower and helped me get in. It was time to go to the church. I was just staring at myself in the powder bath mirror. No thoughts. Just numb. Taylor walked up, grabbed my hand, kissed my forehead and said "I cannot tell you how we will get through this, but we are opposite enough that we will balance each other out and we will. We will make it. I love you." I will never forget that moment. My new self started falling in love with his new self in that moment. He saw me declining and he saw my pain. The days leading up to the funeral I do not know if we even had a conversation. I do not know what was said. I do not even think we thought of the others existence. But in that moment, we came together. We held each other's hands and walked to the car to start this new life and journey together.
The funeral itself is a blur of a memory. I do not remember specifics. I do remember listening to the homily given by our Deacon. I caught bits and pieces because the parts I did comprehend made me mad. Luckily for me, Deacon Vic did understand my pain. He also lost a child years prior. He would check on me constantly in the weeks following Bennett's death. Although he did not have the perfect words that would melt away my despair, his words meant something. It took me a while to really grasp, understand and love this homily. But I do. This is what I read on my bad days. It provides me with so much hope. Deacon Vic was an absolute life saver. He told me to give myself time and eventually I would understand this to be true. I did. I am hopeful that these words will also give you peace. If not now, eventually. Thank you to my grandmother, Jenny, for getting this for me to always have.
Funeral Mass
What does one say on the death of a child? What are the parents and we able to hear? I thought about the things said to my wife and me on the death of our son; some helpful, others not so helpful. I thought about what the parents wanted to hear and what I wanted and still need to hear.
It was one of those moments when there is both nothing and everything to say. I know that I
preach the following words as much to myself as to others. Preachers do that sometimes, maybe more often than we care to admit.
I want to name some realities about this day and the circumstances in which we gather:
- The tragedy, and unfairness that a child has died;
- Tears that seem endless;
- Pain that feels unbearable;
- Questions that have no answers;
- Anger at what is and what will not be;
- A sense of powerlessness;
- Letting go when what we really want is to hold on;
- Having been robbed of a life, time, and the hopes and dreams of all that might have been;
- Physical, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion.
I am not telling you anything you do not already know and feel. Rather, I am naming the
circumstances from which new life for George and for you will arise. I am naming the very
places in your life that God is present and working to make all things new. While the things I
listed are real, they are not the final or ultimate reality. Life will be returned and you and George will live together again. That’s the promise of Christ.
The realities we experience today were just as real and just as present as the Bible story of the two women who went before King Solomon. It is a strange and difficult story to hear on this day. It strikes close to home and maybe that’s why we need to hear it. Most often we hear this story as focusing on Solomon’s wisdom but hidden within this story is a miracle. It is the miracle of compassion and love. Recall what the story says. “Because compassion for her son burned within her” the woman entrusted her son to another. She let him go so that he might live. That’s what you did a few days ago. It’s what we have gathered here to do today. We are entrusting George to a new life. This woman’s compassion and love for her son, your compassion and love for George – those are not simply choices, they are divine qualities. They reveal the ongoing and active presence of God with us and in us. We do not stand alone in these circumstances. God has always been present. God neither causes nor intends death. He is the God of life, love, and compassion. When your first tears fell so did God’s. When your heart broke so did God’s.
Compassion and love are what brought George into this world and they are what allowed you to let him go. That is the miracle in the midst of today’s circumstances. That is the miracle that has and will continue to let you to entrust George to God. And, it is the same miracle by which you will forever be his mom and dad.
God’s compassion and love for us are why death never has the final word. It is why God is
making all things new. Life is changed, not ended. As real as the circumstances are today, the
greater reality is the love of God, the power of Christ’s resurrection, and the healing of our lives.
That is the greater reality into which we entrust George and ourselves.
When tears fall, we entrust. When questions and doubts arise, we entrust. When circumstances overwhelm, we entrust. Over and over we entrust ourselves and those we love to God and the new life he is creating. We do not do this alone. We do it together with and supported by family, friends, the angels, archangels, and all the saints in the company of heaven, of whom George is now one. Every time we entrust ourselves to this new life, this greater reality, we celebrate Easter resurrection. Our existence is different than the new life that George is now living.
So we grieve for ourselves.
We have regrets— he has none.
We feel cheated— he does not.
We feel crushed— he is eternally free.
We miss him— he is perfectly content.
We may have doubts and fears—
He is in the arms of Jesus
wrapped in our prayers
wrapped in our love— for love is eternal.
I know this is true.
My prayer is that you will come to know it too.
Deacon Vic, St. Gabriels
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