PS I want to share the poem that emerged in the last few days pondering what I wrote last year, and sent you in “Deep Time.”
Sweet Searing December 23, 2010
Your sweetness, Francis,
is seared on my soul.
By now your spinal cancer pain
has chained you to your bed.
I floss your teeth,
I help you pee.
And what do you say to me?
“What a wonderfull moment this is!
My beloved is here with me.
You look good, you feel good,
and you are so good to me.”
O Francis dear
your sweetness is seared
deep deep within my soul.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Deep Time This Year Too, December 21, 2010
Dear Family and Friends,
Since September 24 I have been rereading the blog entries posted here on the corresponding day this year. I had already decided to set aside the time between Solstice and the date of Francis’ death, January 3, as an overall/not rigid retreat time for myself. (I’ll still go to church, food pantry, join in a Christmas dinner and lead the dances of universal peace New Year’s Eve.) But I want to go deeper into Francis’ journey and mine -- his transition and death.
So what a lovely coincidence to discover: On this date last year the entry was called “Deep Time!” Just what my retreat time beginning tonight, after a small gathering at a friend’s home, was meant to be! So it’s deep time for me again this year! In fact I know Christmas will never be the same for me again.
Last year’s “Deep Time” entry of Dec 21 relates the extraordinary afternoon when Lee and Lynn recorded Francis and me singing together. So I can’t resist copying it here for you, to save you the trouble of digging it out in earlier posts. It reveals Francis’ holy joy.
I thank you all for your kindness! And thank you for keeping me in your prayers.
My Christmas letter is attached below last year’s December 21, 2009 “Deep Time.”
Love, Peace & Joy,
Elaine
Monday, December 21, 2009 Deep time
Dear Family and Friends,
It could happen sooner or later. No one knows when. But we're told to get ready even though Francis is eating again, and with "some gusto!" -- his words. (That gourmet macrobiotic food prepared by Meg
Wolff and company may prolong his life for all we know!)
As I'll share below, Francis and I also had an extraordinary day yesterday.
BUT A NEW PHASE NOW
Yes, we're in a new phase now. I need to reserve my energies for Francis himself, for preparations for his funeral and for giving all the space needed to experience this precious time together when the veil is thin.
Pam Shay his hospice nurse said people nearing death need time to do deeply personal work. She explained that those who haven't experienced close at hand the process of losing a loved one tend not to understand that the terminally ill find visiting very tiring. Though they can rally for visits and look good, they're exhausted afterwards.
This truth was made obvious to us today: After talking with three members of VNA's Hospice staff, and after a visit with Fr. Mike McGarrigle, 85, a close friend for 50 years, Francis was wiped out for the rest of the day. In fact he's been sleeping since 3:00 pm until he surfaced around 8:00 pm for a little supper.
Pam made an excellent suggestion however, to give friends an avenue without tiring him. Those who want to talk to Francis could send me an email with the Subject line reading:
MESSAGE FOR FRANCIS.
I will then read him your messages when he's awake and rested. It's likely I won't be able to answer your emails as I would really want to since it would take time away from Francis. But you can reach him this way and I know he would welcome the connection and returns your love.
He's been bed-bound since Friday night the 18th because standing and sitting in a chair are too much of an ordeal for him. Luckily reclining fully is, as it has been all along, a pain free position. Sitting in bed at a 45 degree angle is also okay for a short while.
He's such a sweetheart! In his situation, can you imagine his saying to me tonight after I helped him use the urinal while lying in bed, and then flossed his teeth, -- "This is another wonderful moment, -- sharing the little chores of getting ready for bed. My beloved is preparing me.....You look good, feel good and are good to me."
How can I not love a man like this ?! I met him in 1968 -- 41 years ago. That means I have been in love with this 82 year old man of mine for half his life!
There are many extraordinarily ordinary moments like this throughout the day. One very big one happened yesterday when Lynn and Lee came for their weekly visit. Surprisingly, this visit totally energized Francis, not just in the moment either, -- but for the rest of the day!
While we all ate our favorite Hot & Sour Soup (from Stir Crazy's on Congress St) which Lynn and Lee brought us, we talked about funeral plans, weeping and laughing while Rowan lay sleeping on our bed.
Then Lee went out to buy a microphone and set things up on our computer to record Francis and me singing the entire Lord's Prayer in Aramaic. I can't thank Nicki Piaget enough for this suggestion! Nor can I describe my joy seeing the earnest proud look on Francis' face as his voice got increasingly stronger and surer. My joy increased seeing Lee and Lynn's response to those beautiful middle eastern melodies! As the last note echoed in the room we spontaneously cheered. And the recording caught that joyous burst.
(When Lynn and Lee come tomorrow to talk finances, I'll ask them what it would cost to make lots of copies of this recording to give away after the funeral.)
Well, that mystical moment together didn't get lost on Francis. When I greeted him this morning he was so happy that I grabbed a pen to catch every word.
He said: "This is the deluxe way of getting up! Everything is falling into place! There are lots of wonderful moments! Wonderful, wonderful moments! NOW! They just keep coming! I'm amazed how much energy I had all day yesterday...It was unlike any other day! After two hours I usually cop out. But I was with it all day. I couldn't believe what was going on and on and on into the evening. Then I had a good night's rest."
Oh my God! What a gift to hear him talk like this!!!
I have so much to write about, and will continue sharing this story of Francis' journey sometime in the future. But except for skeleton outlines, detailed updates as I've been writing will have to wait until later, or at least until all the funeral preparations are completed. I want to dig out photos of Francis, and letters, and papers, and artifacts that illustrate the richness of his life.
It's been a life of great integrity. It's something to celebrate! Even as grief creates the numinous time and spaces that deepen the soul.
Dr. Sherwin B. Nuland put it so well in his book which I picked up years ago: How We Die, Reflections on Life's Final Chapter: "In ages past, the hour of death was, insofar as circumstances permitted, seen as a time of spiritual sanctity, and of a last communion with those being left behind....For many this last communion was the focus not only of the sense that a good death was being granted them but of the hope they saw in the existence of God and an afterlife." p. 256
Elaine
Since September 24 I have been rereading the blog entries posted here on the corresponding day this year. I had already decided to set aside the time between Solstice and the date of Francis’ death, January 3, as an overall/not rigid retreat time for myself. (I’ll still go to church, food pantry, join in a Christmas dinner and lead the dances of universal peace New Year’s Eve.) But I want to go deeper into Francis’ journey and mine -- his transition and death.
So what a lovely coincidence to discover: On this date last year the entry was called “Deep Time!” Just what my retreat time beginning tonight, after a small gathering at a friend’s home, was meant to be! So it’s deep time for me again this year! In fact I know Christmas will never be the same for me again.
Last year’s “Deep Time” entry of Dec 21 relates the extraordinary afternoon when Lee and Lynn recorded Francis and me singing together. So I can’t resist copying it here for you, to save you the trouble of digging it out in earlier posts. It reveals Francis’ holy joy.
I thank you all for your kindness! And thank you for keeping me in your prayers.
My Christmas letter is attached below last year’s December 21, 2009 “Deep Time.”
Love, Peace & Joy,
Elaine
Monday, December 21, 2009 Deep time
Dear Family and Friends,
It could happen sooner or later. No one knows when. But we're told to get ready even though Francis is eating again, and with "some gusto!" -- his words. (That gourmet macrobiotic food prepared by Meg
Wolff and company may prolong his life for all we know!)
As I'll share below, Francis and I also had an extraordinary day yesterday.
BUT A NEW PHASE NOW
Yes, we're in a new phase now. I need to reserve my energies for Francis himself, for preparations for his funeral and for giving all the space needed to experience this precious time together when the veil is thin.
Pam Shay his hospice nurse said people nearing death need time to do deeply personal work. She explained that those who haven't experienced close at hand the process of losing a loved one tend not to understand that the terminally ill find visiting very tiring. Though they can rally for visits and look good, they're exhausted afterwards.
This truth was made obvious to us today: After talking with three members of VNA's Hospice staff, and after a visit with Fr. Mike McGarrigle, 85, a close friend for 50 years, Francis was wiped out for the rest of the day. In fact he's been sleeping since 3:00 pm until he surfaced around 8:00 pm for a little supper.
Pam made an excellent suggestion however, to give friends an avenue without tiring him. Those who want to talk to Francis could send me an email with the Subject line reading:
MESSAGE FOR FRANCIS.
I will then read him your messages when he's awake and rested. It's likely I won't be able to answer your emails as I would really want to since it would take time away from Francis. But you can reach him this way and I know he would welcome the connection and returns your love.
He's been bed-bound since Friday night the 18th because standing and sitting in a chair are too much of an ordeal for him. Luckily reclining fully is, as it has been all along, a pain free position. Sitting in bed at a 45 degree angle is also okay for a short while.
He's such a sweetheart! In his situation, can you imagine his saying to me tonight after I helped him use the urinal while lying in bed, and then flossed his teeth, -- "This is another wonderful moment, -- sharing the little chores of getting ready for bed. My beloved is preparing me.....You look good, feel good and are good to me."
How can I not love a man like this ?! I met him in 1968 -- 41 years ago. That means I have been in love with this 82 year old man of mine for half his life!
There are many extraordinarily ordinary moments like this throughout the day. One very big one happened yesterday when Lynn and Lee came for their weekly visit. Surprisingly, this visit totally energized Francis, not just in the moment either, -- but for the rest of the day!
While we all ate our favorite Hot & Sour Soup (from Stir Crazy's on Congress St) which Lynn and Lee brought us, we talked about funeral plans, weeping and laughing while Rowan lay sleeping on our bed.
Then Lee went out to buy a microphone and set things up on our computer to record Francis and me singing the entire Lord's Prayer in Aramaic. I can't thank Nicki Piaget enough for this suggestion! Nor can I describe my joy seeing the earnest proud look on Francis' face as his voice got increasingly stronger and surer. My joy increased seeing Lee and Lynn's response to those beautiful middle eastern melodies! As the last note echoed in the room we spontaneously cheered. And the recording caught that joyous burst.
(When Lynn and Lee come tomorrow to talk finances, I'll ask them what it would cost to make lots of copies of this recording to give away after the funeral.)
Well, that mystical moment together didn't get lost on Francis. When I greeted him this morning he was so happy that I grabbed a pen to catch every word.
He said: "This is the deluxe way of getting up! Everything is falling into place! There are lots of wonderful moments! Wonderful, wonderful moments! NOW! They just keep coming! I'm amazed how much energy I had all day yesterday...It was unlike any other day! After two hours I usually cop out. But I was with it all day. I couldn't believe what was going on and on and on into the evening. Then I had a good night's rest."
Oh my God! What a gift to hear him talk like this!!!
I have so much to write about, and will continue sharing this story of Francis' journey sometime in the future. But except for skeleton outlines, detailed updates as I've been writing will have to wait until later, or at least until all the funeral preparations are completed. I want to dig out photos of Francis, and letters, and papers, and artifacts that illustrate the richness of his life.
It's been a life of great integrity. It's something to celebrate! Even as grief creates the numinous time and spaces that deepen the soul.
Dr. Sherwin B. Nuland put it so well in his book which I picked up years ago: How We Die, Reflections on Life's Final Chapter: "In ages past, the hour of death was, insofar as circumstances permitted, seen as a time of spiritual sanctity, and of a last communion with those being left behind....For many this last communion was the focus not only of the sense that a good death was being granted them but of the hope they saw in the existence of God and an afterlife." p. 256
Elaine
Deep Time this Year Too + Christmas Letter
Dear Family and Friends,
I want to thank you for your support of me this year, in whatever form it took; your kind concern was not the least. I also pray: May this season bring you deepening joy, whether from the world-shaking gift of Jesus’ birth, and/or the return of light on the Solstice , after the darkest day.
This most difficult year of my life since Francis’ death on Jan 3, though never easy, has also brought its gifts. Whenever people ask how I am, I repeat what a friend said at my 75th Haiti-benefit birthday party in September: “You look as if you’re both grieving and thriving,” and I add my own comment: “They go together. I’m thriving because I’m grieving.”
I’ve survived and thrived through prayer - my indispensable mainstay, - journaling, regular sessions with my spiritual adviser, and since September, -- writing poetry, an unexpected development, (even though I’ve written poems before.) A friend’s gift of poetry books by Donald Hall grieving the death of his wife Jane Kenyon, gave me the idea. Support from family, friends and community has also begun to restore my will to go on living.
It did me good to continue Francis’ and my regular traditions and practices: attending out of town conferences (Dances of Universal Peace, CORPUS, and Call to Action,) participating in Pax Christi meetings, monthly distribution of food at our parish’s pantry, and occasional cultural offerings like local theater. I’m glad I still teach one morning yoga class a week. And I delight in babysitting Rowan every Wednesday from 2:00 pm until after supper when Lynn picks her up.
After fetching her from school, Abigail, Rowan’s neighborhood playmate joins her for all kinds of activities that 6 year olds dream up. To name a few: visiting the chickens, (in summer - picking fruit, watching the frogs) indoor artwork, and always, - reading. Knowing how quickly events slip away with the winds of time, I invite special moments with them to be imprinted in my mind & heart. For example, Rowan sitting on my lap at the computer typing a note (all by herself) asking our neighbor Matt if we could visit. Then, watching them run up the street to see his three big Pyrenee dogs, larger than they are! En route home Rowan yelled to Abigail “Wanna gallop like a horse?” And off they bounded down the street. What delight their contagious joy!
Another indelible moment this week: Rowan sitting on my lap while I read her stories from Free to be You and Me. I laughed right out loud during one story about a girl wanting to join the boy’s baseball team. Then, reading a sad story, -- since my emotions are very close to the surface, -- I wept. So Rowan is learning about grief. An outstanding grief book for children is Waterbugs & Dragonflies by Ruth Stickney.
Christmas will forever be a sacred time for me. Beginning with Christmas Eve, 2009, Francis and I had dialogues in which he shared, in an extraordinary way, his thoughts about his approaching death. I am now rereading (on the corresponding day this year,) everything I wrote last year which is posted. I also plan to listen to the recordings of those conversations, tears or not. I need and want to go through the grief, not bypass it. Then in the new year I will begin writing our story, -- my “God-willing-book.”
I’m reading less but writing more these days. Even so, the title of a book which offers a comprehensive look at how the various religions, east and west, view death, supports my view, -- and more than just my view, -- my conviction:
La Mort Est Une Autre Naissance (Death Is Another Birth,)
Love,
Elaine
I want to thank you for your support of me this year, in whatever form it took; your kind concern was not the least. I also pray: May this season bring you deepening joy, whether from the world-shaking gift of Jesus’ birth, and/or the return of light on the Solstice , after the darkest day.
This most difficult year of my life since Francis’ death on Jan 3, though never easy, has also brought its gifts. Whenever people ask how I am, I repeat what a friend said at my 75th Haiti-benefit birthday party in September: “You look as if you’re both grieving and thriving,” and I add my own comment: “They go together. I’m thriving because I’m grieving.”
I’ve survived and thrived through prayer - my indispensable mainstay, - journaling, regular sessions with my spiritual adviser, and since September, -- writing poetry, an unexpected development, (even though I’ve written poems before.) A friend’s gift of poetry books by Donald Hall grieving the death of his wife Jane Kenyon, gave me the idea. Support from family, friends and community has also begun to restore my will to go on living.
It did me good to continue Francis’ and my regular traditions and practices: attending out of town conferences (Dances of Universal Peace, CORPUS, and Call to Action,) participating in Pax Christi meetings, monthly distribution of food at our parish’s pantry, and occasional cultural offerings like local theater. I’m glad I still teach one morning yoga class a week. And I delight in babysitting Rowan every Wednesday from 2:00 pm until after supper when Lynn picks her up.
After fetching her from school, Abigail, Rowan’s neighborhood playmate joins her for all kinds of activities that 6 year olds dream up. To name a few: visiting the chickens, (in summer - picking fruit, watching the frogs) indoor artwork, and always, - reading. Knowing how quickly events slip away with the winds of time, I invite special moments with them to be imprinted in my mind & heart. For example, Rowan sitting on my lap at the computer typing a note (all by herself) asking our neighbor Matt if we could visit. Then, watching them run up the street to see his three big Pyrenee dogs, larger than they are! En route home Rowan yelled to Abigail “Wanna gallop like a horse?” And off they bounded down the street. What delight their contagious joy!
Another indelible moment this week: Rowan sitting on my lap while I read her stories from Free to be You and Me. I laughed right out loud during one story about a girl wanting to join the boy’s baseball team. Then, reading a sad story, -- since my emotions are very close to the surface, -- I wept. So Rowan is learning about grief. An outstanding grief book for children is Waterbugs & Dragonflies by Ruth Stickney.
Christmas will forever be a sacred time for me. Beginning with Christmas Eve, 2009, Francis and I had dialogues in which he shared, in an extraordinary way, his thoughts about his approaching death. I am now rereading (on the corresponding day this year,) everything I wrote last year which is posted. I also plan to listen to the recordings of those conversations, tears or not. I need and want to go through the grief, not bypass it. Then in the new year I will begin writing our story, -- my “God-willing-book.”
I’m reading less but writing more these days. Even so, the title of a book which offers a comprehensive look at how the various religions, east and west, view death, supports my view, -- and more than just my view, -- my conviction:
La Mort Est Une Autre Naissance (Death Is Another Birth,)
Love,
Elaine
Saturday, November 13, 2010
July 3, 2010
It's Six Month Ago Today
Dear Family and Friends,
It's been a challenging day for me today, the 6th month since Francis died. When it feels difficult to take in a full enough satisfying breath, I know it's grief. The body doesn't lie.
But I'm fortunate to have letting go skills: the yoga pose "Savasana" ("corpse pose,") and a method of yogic breathing that invites a longer exhalation (and THAT's what triggers the relaxation response.) But I also did simply nothing this afternoon, -- lounging on a chair on our deck.
What a blessing Francis and I established together, -- this permaculture Eden! The soothing cluck of the chickens just 25' away from the deck to the right, and the sound and sight of the waterfall to the left, and the now green grapes hanging overhead restore me.
So does the presence of children in the neighborhood whom I encourage to come visit the chickens and taste the fruits (strawberries and blueberries and cherries are ripe now, and coming up soon, -- peaches, plums and grapes.) One of them, our neighbor 8 year old Abigail, Rowan's weekly playmate on babysitting day, comes every day to give the chickens greens. And she even likes to go "gold digging," collecting the poop in the run! No, -- I didn't entice her to do that! She WANTED to! It's a task I don't mind either because the hens are so sweet, even if a few of them give each other some pecks now and then. Having enough food and room makes them pretty nonviolent for chickens.
I've gone to two special weekends recently. The first was a June 3-5 retreat at Alcyon Center in Seal Harbor Maine on "Attention of the Heart" given by Cynthia Bourgeault. I went because of two books she wrote, -- Love Is Stronger Than Death and Centering Prayer.
Even though I didn't need a word for it, Cynthia's description of "bi-axial" living fits what has been developing for me since Francis died. I really like the image she frequently quoted from Song of Songs 5:2: "I sleep but my heart is awake."
It reminds me of two other quotes that are my guiding light:
St. John Chrysostom's (which I used on my mother's memorial bookmark, so it's expressed here inclusively:) "S/he whom you love and lose is no longer where s/he was before, s/he is now wherever you are."
And best of all, Jesus' prayer: "Father I wish that where I am they also may be with me (Jn 17:24.) Like Jesus' "Abide in my love," (Jn 15:9,) I see no reason why I can't apply these to Francis' and my continuing relationship. What else does the "Communion of the Saints" mean? And don't we all sing -- "Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est," Latin for -- "Where charity and love prevail, there is God." Yes, it's fine that Francis and Jesus get intertwined for me in prayer.
"Be with me where I am" works two ways. Sometimes it feels (in a simple quiet clear knowing) that I'm "there," with him, -- but even more often, Francis is "where I am," supporting me as I go on with my life.
Last weekend's CORPUS Conference outside Dallas was both painful and heartwarming.
Among these married priest friends and wives with whom Francis and I have so much in common, I felt at home. Bless Eileen and John Munroe who came with me along with Sue Ewing who commented that it seemed for me like a meeting with my extended family.
One of those members of CORPUS, John "Jack" Shea, 88 lost his wife just 2 months ago. Realizing at lunch that we had a lot to share, and learning we're both reading Karl Rahner, we agreed to share with each other titles of books on death.
One of the keynote speakers, Jan Phillips, urged us to share our stories: "How did you survive?" she asked. "Express that!" It gave me another incentive to eventually write a book. At first, as many have urged me to do, I was going to publish what I already wrote. But after talking at length with David Gawlik, the editor of CORPUSReports who suggested I "give dimension" to that "history," I have a better sense of what my next step is: simply to continue living through what I'm living, with journaling and prayer and reflection. I'll know when the time is ripe. Not yet.
This tribute to Francis was written by Linda Pinto of New Jersey, a former Franciscan nun, now married to Ralph Pinto. It was printed on the inside cover of our Conference Program, featuring the photo of Francis taken by Kelly Bellis: It made me feel so proud of him!
One of the longtime CORPUS members told me it's actually rare for the CORPUS Conference to dedicated its program to one of its deceased members. It shows what an impact Francis made on them, he said.
Allen Moore who wrote thank-you notes to those who gave donations to CORPUS in honor of Francis put it so well: "We will miss Francis' gentle presence. Francis did not speak out often at these conferences, but when he did, everybody listened because we knew what he said would be meaningful and edifying."
Tribute To Francis A. McGillicuddy
Francis McGillicuddy is a gentle, giant presence in the CORPUS Community.
Born in 1927 in New Brunswick, Canada, Francis was ordained by Richard Cardinal Cushing in Boston in 1958. His priestly ministry evolved from parish work and his focus on social justice took hold during the Vietnam War. His vocation to prophetic witness was born in the early ’70 when he sponsored a young man who won conscientious objector status from the Federal Court in Portland, marking the first time in Main a Catholic could get a CO status.
As with so many others in the CORPUS Community, Francis fell in love with Elaine Beatrice Goulet, an Ursuline nun, and he knew it was of God. It was hoped that their dual vocation to ministry and marriage would be recognized and blessed by the Church. When that hope faded, they married and began the adventure of a lifetime.
Francis’ unconditional embrace of people, no matter from what background, circumstance or persuasion was admirable. He lived each day with gratitude, humility and joy.
Francis and Elaine have been an unassuming, yet powerful presence at each CORPUS Conference. Their recitation of the Aramaic Beatitudes at the Chasta, Minnesota Conference in 2005 still remains a powerful and prayerful memory for all who attended.
His journey back to God was painful and demanding. Each moment of each passing day was viewed as an additional grace for just “being” together.
His memorial card must become our consolation: Love is as strong as death.
We dedicate this CORPUS Conference, In Search of Freedom, to Francis as a tribute and a challenge. We appreciate, embrace and honor this Man of Integrity and the values he embodied. And Love, above all else, Love.
**********
Here's a Rowan story. I abbreviate it since this note is already long enough:
Two days ago, when Rowan passed through the side entrance she patted our Saint Francis statue on the head. Then, en route to choosing a book for me to read to her, she picked up the note she had written on parchment several weeks ago, and, sitting on our bed, read her note aloud:
"I AM SO RILY BADLY SARY THAT PAPA (Obviously she meant Pepere) DIeD. i LOVe HIM SO MUCH THAT I CUD CRI. MeMe LOVeD PAPA SO MuCH. (She meant "pepere," of course. But she calls her faither, Lee, "dada.")
FROM ROWAN
Curling herself up on our bed, she then thrust the same note into my hand asking me to read it aloud also. By then I could hardly talk, but I rallied and read it in a weak voice, tears running down my cheeks while she watched me. Reflecting on this later I realized she wanted to see the tears. It was as if she wanted her own sorrow expressed openly. So I ordered three children's books for her today to help a six year old who misses her "pepere."
Rowan's reading ability is growing by the day! On Thursday after reading the bumper sticker posted on our refrigerator which puzzled her, -- MONEY IS NOT WEALTH, -- I explained that the biggest source of weath is love and FRIENDS.
Love and gratitude for the wealth you give me,
Elaine
It's Six Month Ago Today
Dear Family and Friends,
It's been a challenging day for me today, the 6th month since Francis died. When it feels difficult to take in a full enough satisfying breath, I know it's grief. The body doesn't lie.
But I'm fortunate to have letting go skills: the yoga pose "Savasana" ("corpse pose,") and a method of yogic breathing that invites a longer exhalation (and THAT's what triggers the relaxation response.) But I also did simply nothing this afternoon, -- lounging on a chair on our deck.
What a blessing Francis and I established together, -- this permaculture Eden! The soothing cluck of the chickens just 25' away from the deck to the right, and the sound and sight of the waterfall to the left, and the now green grapes hanging overhead restore me.
So does the presence of children in the neighborhood whom I encourage to come visit the chickens and taste the fruits (strawberries and blueberries and cherries are ripe now, and coming up soon, -- peaches, plums and grapes.) One of them, our neighbor 8 year old Abigail, Rowan's weekly playmate on babysitting day, comes every day to give the chickens greens. And she even likes to go "gold digging," collecting the poop in the run! No, -- I didn't entice her to do that! She WANTED to! It's a task I don't mind either because the hens are so sweet, even if a few of them give each other some pecks now and then. Having enough food and room makes them pretty nonviolent for chickens.
I've gone to two special weekends recently. The first was a June 3-5 retreat at Alcyon Center in Seal Harbor Maine on "Attention of the Heart" given by Cynthia Bourgeault. I went because of two books she wrote, -- Love Is Stronger Than Death and Centering Prayer.
Even though I didn't need a word for it, Cynthia's description of "bi-axial" living fits what has been developing for me since Francis died. I really like the image she frequently quoted from Song of Songs 5:2: "I sleep but my heart is awake."
It reminds me of two other quotes that are my guiding light:
St. John Chrysostom's (which I used on my mother's memorial bookmark, so it's expressed here inclusively:) "S/he whom you love and lose is no longer where s/he was before, s/he is now wherever you are."
And best of all, Jesus' prayer: "Father I wish that where I am they also may be with me (Jn 17:24.) Like Jesus' "Abide in my love," (Jn 15:9,) I see no reason why I can't apply these to Francis' and my continuing relationship. What else does the "Communion of the Saints" mean? And don't we all sing -- "Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est," Latin for -- "Where charity and love prevail, there is God." Yes, it's fine that Francis and Jesus get intertwined for me in prayer.
"Be with me where I am" works two ways. Sometimes it feels (in a simple quiet clear knowing) that I'm "there," with him, -- but even more often, Francis is "where I am," supporting me as I go on with my life.
Last weekend's CORPUS Conference outside Dallas was both painful and heartwarming.
Among these married priest friends and wives with whom Francis and I have so much in common, I felt at home. Bless Eileen and John Munroe who came with me along with Sue Ewing who commented that it seemed for me like a meeting with my extended family.
One of those members of CORPUS, John "Jack" Shea, 88 lost his wife just 2 months ago. Realizing at lunch that we had a lot to share, and learning we're both reading Karl Rahner, we agreed to share with each other titles of books on death.
One of the keynote speakers, Jan Phillips, urged us to share our stories: "How did you survive?" she asked. "Express that!" It gave me another incentive to eventually write a book. At first, as many have urged me to do, I was going to publish what I already wrote. But after talking at length with David Gawlik, the editor of CORPUSReports who suggested I "give dimension" to that "history," I have a better sense of what my next step is: simply to continue living through what I'm living, with journaling and prayer and reflection. I'll know when the time is ripe. Not yet.
This tribute to Francis was written by Linda Pinto of New Jersey, a former Franciscan nun, now married to Ralph Pinto. It was printed on the inside cover of our Conference Program, featuring the photo of Francis taken by Kelly Bellis: It made me feel so proud of him!
One of the longtime CORPUS members told me it's actually rare for the CORPUS Conference to dedicated its program to one of its deceased members. It shows what an impact Francis made on them, he said.
Allen Moore who wrote thank-you notes to those who gave donations to CORPUS in honor of Francis put it so well: "We will miss Francis' gentle presence. Francis did not speak out often at these conferences, but when he did, everybody listened because we knew what he said would be meaningful and edifying."
Tribute To Francis A. McGillicuddy
Francis McGillicuddy is a gentle, giant presence in the CORPUS Community.
Born in 1927 in New Brunswick, Canada, Francis was ordained by Richard Cardinal Cushing in Boston in 1958. His priestly ministry evolved from parish work and his focus on social justice took hold during the Vietnam War. His vocation to prophetic witness was born in the early ’70 when he sponsored a young man who won conscientious objector status from the Federal Court in Portland, marking the first time in Main a Catholic could get a CO status.
As with so many others in the CORPUS Community, Francis fell in love with Elaine Beatrice Goulet, an Ursuline nun, and he knew it was of God. It was hoped that their dual vocation to ministry and marriage would be recognized and blessed by the Church. When that hope faded, they married and began the adventure of a lifetime.
Francis’ unconditional embrace of people, no matter from what background, circumstance or persuasion was admirable. He lived each day with gratitude, humility and joy.
Francis and Elaine have been an unassuming, yet powerful presence at each CORPUS Conference. Their recitation of the Aramaic Beatitudes at the Chasta, Minnesota Conference in 2005 still remains a powerful and prayerful memory for all who attended.
His journey back to God was painful and demanding. Each moment of each passing day was viewed as an additional grace for just “being” together.
His memorial card must become our consolation: Love is as strong as death.
We dedicate this CORPUS Conference, In Search of Freedom, to Francis as a tribute and a challenge. We appreciate, embrace and honor this Man of Integrity and the values he embodied. And Love, above all else, Love.
**********
Here's a Rowan story. I abbreviate it since this note is already long enough:
Two days ago, when Rowan passed through the side entrance she patted our Saint Francis statue on the head. Then, en route to choosing a book for me to read to her, she picked up the note she had written on parchment several weeks ago, and, sitting on our bed, read her note aloud:
"I AM SO RILY BADLY SARY THAT PAPA (Obviously she meant Pepere) DIeD. i LOVe HIM SO MUCH THAT I CUD CRI. MeMe LOVeD PAPA SO MuCH. (She meant "pepere," of course. But she calls her faither, Lee, "dada.")
FROM ROWAN
Curling herself up on our bed, she then thrust the same note into my hand asking me to read it aloud also. By then I could hardly talk, but I rallied and read it in a weak voice, tears running down my cheeks while she watched me. Reflecting on this later I realized she wanted to see the tears. It was as if she wanted her own sorrow expressed openly. So I ordered three children's books for her today to help a six year old who misses her "pepere."
Rowan's reading ability is growing by the day! On Thursday after reading the bumper sticker posted on our refrigerator which puzzled her, -- MONEY IS NOT WEALTH, -- I explained that the biggest source of weath is love and FRIENDS.
Love and gratitude for the wealth you give me,
Elaine
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Francis thru others' eyes, 2 photos & Bonhoeffer quote
Dear Family and Friends,
I'm indebted to Kelly Bellis, Pax Christi/Maine's former web-master for the two attached striking photos of Francis. They were taken during a weekend conference/retreat outside Bangor ME, at an intimate unique center created by Georgia Koskiusko and her husband out in the country. Our good friend, the late Jim Harney was the organizer for that fall weekend, possibly in 2005.
One photo shows Francis listening intently to Jim's mentor from out of state who lead the retreat. The other photo, where Francis looks absorbed in prayer, was taken around 8:00 AM when we were likely listening to our guide during a nature walk.
Lynn and Lee enlarged and framed Kelly's photos for me as a surprise Mother's Day gift. They're perfect icons for my sitting/prayer time.
Last Sunday, at the planting of our "Be loved" Francis tree, -- the beautiful Japanese Stewartia (whose name Rowan now knows,) -- I read some of the passages you wrote to or about Francis. One friend told me afterwards it "rounds out Francis." I've found it an uplifting exercise to cull them from your cards.
Rereading them and your notes has also nourished me. When I read this must-share quote of Dietrich Bonhoeffer last week, it was as if for the first time:
NOTHING
can make up for the absence
of someone we love.
And it would be wrong
to try to find a substitute.
We must simply hold out
and see it through.
That sounds very hard at first
but at the same time
it is a great consolation.
For the gap, as long as
it remains unfilled
preserves the bond
between us.
It is nonsense to say that
God fills the gap.
God does not fill it.
But on the contrary
keeps it empty
and so helps us to keep alive
our...communion
with each other
even at the cost of pain.
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Next weekend I'm going on a retreat with Cynthia Bourgeault, the author of Love Is Stronger Than Death. It'll be held at a retreat center at Mount Desert Island in Seal Cover Maine: http://www.alcyoncenter.org/ I'm most grateful to Martin Steingesser and his partner Judy for leading me to this book which applies to me in some important ways.
And so indirectly, they've led me to this upcoming retreat!
With gratitude for love that never dies,
Elaine
PS There are unsolicited signs that Rowan remembers Francis. Besides reminding me once again (She does this almost weekly!) about dusting his (St.) Francis statue, Rowan made a loving unexpected gesture on Francis' behalf: She had gone to a party where pre-painted eggs, (prepared by the mothers) Polish style, had been emptied of the egg itself and filled with confetti after which the children play with them. She had brought me one on Sunday and tucked it into a larger blue plastic egg.
Well on Thursday, her usual visit day here, making sure I saw her do it, -- she ceremoniously took the egg where I had placed it and put it right on top of the large photo of Francis, (the one she had hugged before) sitting on the dining room table. That poster awaits more work from me when I shrink-wrap it for her future viewing. She did this with an air of satisfaction. I was satisfied too.
PPS: The following week, and for the first time, when Rowan arrived at our home she hugged the St. Francis statue standing in the entryway.
Then a week later, seemingly coming out of nowhere, she said: "Pepere is alive." I let that sink in a moment and then asked: "Rowan, when you said 'Pepere is alive,' what made you say that? "I don't know," she replied. I see that mystery and the limits of human knowledge do not prevent conviction and another kind of knowing, even, and maybe especially, in a child.
***********************************************************************************
So here are your quotes, -- FRANCIS THROUGH OTHERS' EYES, written to and about Francis in emails and cards:
He was, without any doubt, a shining star in the active way he lived his principles. He struck me, every time I had the pleasure of seeing him, as being the kind of thorough-going grown-up we all aspire to be: gentle and confident, able to engage sincerely and comfortably with anyone, either lightly or seriously, as the occasion called for. He stood up for folks who could not speak up well for themselves. Francis leaves inspired memories.
It feels to me that a huge hole has been created in this world. Francis was a treasure, very calm, very loving, emanating warmth and kindness always. I sensed that he didn't have a mean fiber or bone anywhere in his body.
I liked Francis' presence, always, -- his kind way of listening and speaking.
His tender attendance to our dying mother has left us with such enduring affection. All accolades for him will never exceed what he deserves. His graciousness will always be remembered.
Sitting next to yoga often, in yoga class, I always felt such a quiet joy and strength from him. I will never forget his smile.
His eyes shone when he smiled. He had such presence.
I don't think there was ever a person who was not touched in some way by his presence. He lived his life fully and shared openly his spirit with the generosity and caring of a whole human being. As a gentle and quiet man his actions spoke much more than any words could say.
(Many many people spoke of Francis' kindness and gentleness:)
An extraordinary man...a gifted and intelligent man...the kindest, dearest man.....a gentle and loving man (rare, indeed)... truly one of the gentlest souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.... a peaceful and reverent man.... Such a kind and gentle spirit has left this world....a gentle spirit with a quiet sense of humor...You are such a beautiful human being, with a quiet, gentle way about you that touches all who come in contact with you... "gentle and holy soul."
He leaves much as an example of what a loving and caring human being looks like -- for others to emulate.
Francis was an inspiration to me, living, in the best spiritual sense, what I envision an authentic Christian life to be. He was also a "good father" to many of us....What a great soul he was! Our community has felt a significant loss. I'm adding my small voice to the collective.
I would guess it was 15 years ago, maybe more, the first time I met you. It was at a vigil in Monument Square. It was cold. You had a sign. You introduced yourself, embracing me, a hug which I soon came to know was your trademark. There were more vigils on even more frigid days on Commercial Street in front of the BIW ship repair facility. While the rest of us shivered, the cold didn't seem to bother you, ever smiling that sweet smile. What an endearing man, my wife said. Endearing is the right word.
I write with admiration for Francis' patience and unbowed humor in his daily encounters with pain...Francis is one of those great souls who shine in our midst, making the world more nonviolent, just, wise and good simply by being their beautiful, godly selves.
A source of inspiration because he modeled the values he espoused.
Francis will always be remembered because of how he lived his life. What a life and ministry he had! His was "a life well spent, an exemplary life well-lived.
As we Quakers say, "Let your life speak." His surely did, -- of love and peace.
I smile recalling Francis as a gentle ray of sunshine whose presence had an amazing and calming effect on people who knew him and came in contact with him.
I was moved to see Francis' special obituary in my newspaper and flooded with such good memories of who and how he was that I want to write you. You met me only briefly, but as a member of Community Psychiatry at Maine Medical Center, and later with Geriatric Psychiatry. I worked with him many times. His humanity, caring and determination to better the lives of those he served shone through always, but my favorite memory is of a training experience we had. He and I (This was in the 70's) were lying at right angles on the floor of some church hall, arm wrestling! The idea was gender equality or empowerment or something, but I remember our joyful competitiveness & the fact that I actually made some headway but the didn't let me win.
Francis was an oasis for me during those moments after mass, or at a gathering of parishioners. There he was, peacefully present among us, silent mostly, and I would sidle up to him and be blessed by a conversation inevitably insightful with a bit of wit and wisdom and a twinkle or two for good measure.
The memory of his idealism, commitment to justice and love for fellow human beings will live on.
I can only hope that the loss of my wife or either of my brothers comes after such a fruitful interval.
Francis' life of great courage, honesty, and gratitude was such a full expression of his intentional life! His was truly a life lived with intention...
Always the rock for Elaine, always kind to all, and now a leader in how to let go with courage, grace, faith and love! You are teaching us all the most valuable lesson we might ever need.
I reflect on the life experiences we have shared together growing up on the farm and looking up to you for guidance, as an older brother. I remember it was you who pushed for higher education for me with my parents and that step in attending St FX has enriched my life experience greatly.
Francis and I first met about 1976. We were both in the newly formed Lifeline Program at USM. He and I would go out for runs together. We would usually run about three miles....For me there was no warming up period with Francis. I liked him right away. And it wasn't long before I admired and looked up to him. He was easy to be with and I greatly respected his points of view.
Thanks for the example of your life of integrity, for your smile, your twinkly eyes and your kindness. Your presence and friendship have meant so much to me.
Francis, -- Great integrity epitomizes how we think of you. You are a man who really pays attention to his inner voices: you have somehow been able to find the strength and courage to " speak truth to power." And you have done so in a way that was not provocative. You were a man who knew right from wrong and while many of us might choose to look the other way, you could quietly take a stand when you knew it was important to do so.
When in Yoga with you and Elaine I always kept an eye on you to make sure I could keep up, and I usually didn't. I loved his presence in yoga class and the sweet way he always consented to demonstrate, to be used as an example.
His was a life of great integrity. I believe the contribution of his integrity to the universe does not end...
Your sweet courageous spirit, humble strength and loving presence have always been gifts to us.
My prayer is that as my time draws closer, I will be able to move forward with the grace and joy (in the midst of pain) I see in you, Francis.
We are both in awe of the grace which you exhibit as you approach the end of earthly life and from this we draw strength of our own to deal with our own feelings around loss of a loved one.
My fondest Francis memories include his vibrant smile and hearty laugh, -- from Camp days to more recent summer family reunions.
In the loss of Francis we have all lost a great advocate but he will long be an inspiration to many.
Francis, you are a prince, always have been.
Francis I have things I need to say to people I love...you taught me how important this is to do......now I sit and quietly watch my little boy and I know how fast I will become the old man...I will do it well and I will show him by example...how to live well, how to love well, how to die well...we are all part of a continuum of life's energy and you will soon shift forms again...I know you will be there...that your energy will flow through those of us still here in the physical realm...Francis, I love you, I will work hard at being my best self...I thank you so very much for sharing your life energy with me...thank you Francis, thank you...
Francis, Love radiates from your eyes and smile whenever I see you. You have taught me so much about living and now you are teaching me how to die with dignity, peace, and love.
I always will remember Francis' gentle spirit and quiet sense of humor. He always made me smile and, as a young kid I thought he would be the perfect "big brother" that I never had.
He is at peace and entered the transition escorted by so much love and peace, he'll assist us when the time comes for our transition.
The way you have confronted your illness with deepening spirituality is such an example to us all.
I feel fortunate to have had you in my life. You are so selfless and giving. I always enjoyed our intellectual conversations and appreciate how well informed you are. I will never forget how you always hugged me each time we got together. This is special because most men in our society are reluctant to hug another man. It demonstrates how secure you are in your identity and the love that you have for other people, regardless of their gender. You have such a great sense of humor. ...I love you and thank you for being who you are: a great male role model.
We frequently talk of the wonderful days when we all did yoga together. We can visualize Francis quietly going about his business of helping you, Elaine, in any way he could while being an active participant in class.
Dear Francis, What a treasured friend you have been...what a wonderful priest without borders you are... your very existence has led many to the God you have loved so well. Thank you so much for sharing that last visit with me even when you were already suffering--and yet could listen patiently to my stories, asking discerning questions, and adding your own insights to enrich the narration. You are a good and just man.
I always learned deeply from you, even when there were no words spoken.
I always felt when Francis looked at me he was trying to peer into my soul. While I’m not perfect I never feared what he would find but I was often curious about his thoughts. I felt that he recognized my strengths and didn’t judge me for my weaknesses. I was always amazed at his patience in Yoga. When his body started to give up (his heart n soul never did) he would continue to help you do demos, even though I could see something just wasn’t the same.
I'm indebted to Kelly Bellis, Pax Christi/Maine's former web-master for the two attached striking photos of Francis. They were taken during a weekend conference/retreat outside Bangor ME, at an intimate unique center created by Georgia Koskiusko and her husband out in the country. Our good friend, the late Jim Harney was the organizer for that fall weekend, possibly in 2005.
One photo shows Francis listening intently to Jim's mentor from out of state who lead the retreat. The other photo, where Francis looks absorbed in prayer, was taken around 8:00 AM when we were likely listening to our guide during a nature walk.
Lynn and Lee enlarged and framed Kelly's photos for me as a surprise Mother's Day gift. They're perfect icons for my sitting/prayer time.
Last Sunday, at the planting of our "Be loved" Francis tree, -- the beautiful Japanese Stewartia (whose name Rowan now knows,) -- I read some of the passages you wrote to or about Francis. One friend told me afterwards it "rounds out Francis." I've found it an uplifting exercise to cull them from your cards.
Rereading them and your notes has also nourished me. When I read this must-share quote of Dietrich Bonhoeffer last week, it was as if for the first time:
NOTHING
can make up for the absence
of someone we love.
And it would be wrong
to try to find a substitute.
We must simply hold out
and see it through.
That sounds very hard at first
but at the same time
it is a great consolation.
For the gap, as long as
it remains unfilled
preserves the bond
between us.
It is nonsense to say that
God fills the gap.
God does not fill it.
But on the contrary
keeps it empty
and so helps us to keep alive
our...communion
with each other
even at the cost of pain.
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Next weekend I'm going on a retreat with Cynthia Bourgeault, the author of Love Is Stronger Than Death. It'll be held at a retreat center at Mount Desert Island in Seal Cover Maine: http://www.alcyoncenter.org/ I'm most grateful to Martin Steingesser and his partner Judy for leading me to this book which applies to me in some important ways.
And so indirectly, they've led me to this upcoming retreat!
With gratitude for love that never dies,
Elaine
PS There are unsolicited signs that Rowan remembers Francis. Besides reminding me once again (She does this almost weekly!) about dusting his (St.) Francis statue, Rowan made a loving unexpected gesture on Francis' behalf: She had gone to a party where pre-painted eggs, (prepared by the mothers) Polish style, had been emptied of the egg itself and filled with confetti after which the children play with them. She had brought me one on Sunday and tucked it into a larger blue plastic egg.
Well on Thursday, her usual visit day here, making sure I saw her do it, -- she ceremoniously took the egg where I had placed it and put it right on top of the large photo of Francis, (the one she had hugged before) sitting on the dining room table. That poster awaits more work from me when I shrink-wrap it for her future viewing. She did this with an air of satisfaction. I was satisfied too.
PPS: The following week, and for the first time, when Rowan arrived at our home she hugged the St. Francis statue standing in the entryway.
Then a week later, seemingly coming out of nowhere, she said: "Pepere is alive." I let that sink in a moment and then asked: "Rowan, when you said 'Pepere is alive,' what made you say that? "I don't know," she replied. I see that mystery and the limits of human knowledge do not prevent conviction and another kind of knowing, even, and maybe especially, in a child.
***********************************************************************************
So here are your quotes, -- FRANCIS THROUGH OTHERS' EYES, written to and about Francis in emails and cards:
He was, without any doubt, a shining star in the active way he lived his principles. He struck me, every time I had the pleasure of seeing him, as being the kind of thorough-going grown-up we all aspire to be: gentle and confident, able to engage sincerely and comfortably with anyone, either lightly or seriously, as the occasion called for. He stood up for folks who could not speak up well for themselves. Francis leaves inspired memories.
It feels to me that a huge hole has been created in this world. Francis was a treasure, very calm, very loving, emanating warmth and kindness always. I sensed that he didn't have a mean fiber or bone anywhere in his body.
I liked Francis' presence, always, -- his kind way of listening and speaking.
His tender attendance to our dying mother has left us with such enduring affection. All accolades for him will never exceed what he deserves. His graciousness will always be remembered.
Sitting next to yoga often, in yoga class, I always felt such a quiet joy and strength from him. I will never forget his smile.
His eyes shone when he smiled. He had such presence.
I don't think there was ever a person who was not touched in some way by his presence. He lived his life fully and shared openly his spirit with the generosity and caring of a whole human being. As a gentle and quiet man his actions spoke much more than any words could say.
(Many many people spoke of Francis' kindness and gentleness:)
An extraordinary man...a gifted and intelligent man...the kindest, dearest man.....a gentle and loving man (rare, indeed)... truly one of the gentlest souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.... a peaceful and reverent man.... Such a kind and gentle spirit has left this world....a gentle spirit with a quiet sense of humor...You are such a beautiful human being, with a quiet, gentle way about you that touches all who come in contact with you... "gentle and holy soul."
He leaves much as an example of what a loving and caring human being looks like -- for others to emulate.
Francis was an inspiration to me, living, in the best spiritual sense, what I envision an authentic Christian life to be. He was also a "good father" to many of us....What a great soul he was! Our community has felt a significant loss. I'm adding my small voice to the collective.
I would guess it was 15 years ago, maybe more, the first time I met you. It was at a vigil in Monument Square. It was cold. You had a sign. You introduced yourself, embracing me, a hug which I soon came to know was your trademark. There were more vigils on even more frigid days on Commercial Street in front of the BIW ship repair facility. While the rest of us shivered, the cold didn't seem to bother you, ever smiling that sweet smile. What an endearing man, my wife said. Endearing is the right word.
I write with admiration for Francis' patience and unbowed humor in his daily encounters with pain...Francis is one of those great souls who shine in our midst, making the world more nonviolent, just, wise and good simply by being their beautiful, godly selves.
A source of inspiration because he modeled the values he espoused.
Francis will always be remembered because of how he lived his life. What a life and ministry he had! His was "a life well spent, an exemplary life well-lived.
As we Quakers say, "Let your life speak." His surely did, -- of love and peace.
I smile recalling Francis as a gentle ray of sunshine whose presence had an amazing and calming effect on people who knew him and came in contact with him.
I was moved to see Francis' special obituary in my newspaper and flooded with such good memories of who and how he was that I want to write you. You met me only briefly, but as a member of Community Psychiatry at Maine Medical Center, and later with Geriatric Psychiatry. I worked with him many times. His humanity, caring and determination to better the lives of those he served shone through always, but my favorite memory is of a training experience we had. He and I (This was in the 70's) were lying at right angles on the floor of some church hall, arm wrestling! The idea was gender equality or empowerment or something, but I remember our joyful competitiveness & the fact that I actually made some headway but the didn't let me win.
Francis was an oasis for me during those moments after mass, or at a gathering of parishioners. There he was, peacefully present among us, silent mostly, and I would sidle up to him and be blessed by a conversation inevitably insightful with a bit of wit and wisdom and a twinkle or two for good measure.
The memory of his idealism, commitment to justice and love for fellow human beings will live on.
I can only hope that the loss of my wife or either of my brothers comes after such a fruitful interval.
Francis' life of great courage, honesty, and gratitude was such a full expression of his intentional life! His was truly a life lived with intention...
Always the rock for Elaine, always kind to all, and now a leader in how to let go with courage, grace, faith and love! You are teaching us all the most valuable lesson we might ever need.
I reflect on the life experiences we have shared together growing up on the farm and looking up to you for guidance, as an older brother. I remember it was you who pushed for higher education for me with my parents and that step in attending St FX has enriched my life experience greatly.
Francis and I first met about 1976. We were both in the newly formed Lifeline Program at USM. He and I would go out for runs together. We would usually run about three miles....For me there was no warming up period with Francis. I liked him right away. And it wasn't long before I admired and looked up to him. He was easy to be with and I greatly respected his points of view.
Thanks for the example of your life of integrity, for your smile, your twinkly eyes and your kindness. Your presence and friendship have meant so much to me.
Francis, -- Great integrity epitomizes how we think of you. You are a man who really pays attention to his inner voices: you have somehow been able to find the strength and courage to " speak truth to power." And you have done so in a way that was not provocative. You were a man who knew right from wrong and while many of us might choose to look the other way, you could quietly take a stand when you knew it was important to do so.
When in Yoga with you and Elaine I always kept an eye on you to make sure I could keep up, and I usually didn't. I loved his presence in yoga class and the sweet way he always consented to demonstrate, to be used as an example.
His was a life of great integrity. I believe the contribution of his integrity to the universe does not end...
Your sweet courageous spirit, humble strength and loving presence have always been gifts to us.
My prayer is that as my time draws closer, I will be able to move forward with the grace and joy (in the midst of pain) I see in you, Francis.
We are both in awe of the grace which you exhibit as you approach the end of earthly life and from this we draw strength of our own to deal with our own feelings around loss of a loved one.
My fondest Francis memories include his vibrant smile and hearty laugh, -- from Camp days to more recent summer family reunions.
In the loss of Francis we have all lost a great advocate but he will long be an inspiration to many.
Francis, you are a prince, always have been.
Francis I have things I need to say to people I love...you taught me how important this is to do......now I sit and quietly watch my little boy and I know how fast I will become the old man...I will do it well and I will show him by example...how to live well, how to love well, how to die well...we are all part of a continuum of life's energy and you will soon shift forms again...I know you will be there...that your energy will flow through those of us still here in the physical realm...Francis, I love you, I will work hard at being my best self...I thank you so very much for sharing your life energy with me...thank you Francis, thank you...
Francis, Love radiates from your eyes and smile whenever I see you. You have taught me so much about living and now you are teaching me how to die with dignity, peace, and love.
I always will remember Francis' gentle spirit and quiet sense of humor. He always made me smile and, as a young kid I thought he would be the perfect "big brother" that I never had.
He is at peace and entered the transition escorted by so much love and peace, he'll assist us when the time comes for our transition.
The way you have confronted your illness with deepening spirituality is such an example to us all.
I feel fortunate to have had you in my life. You are so selfless and giving. I always enjoyed our intellectual conversations and appreciate how well informed you are. I will never forget how you always hugged me each time we got together. This is special because most men in our society are reluctant to hug another man. It demonstrates how secure you are in your identity and the love that you have for other people, regardless of their gender. You have such a great sense of humor. ...I love you and thank you for being who you are: a great male role model.
We frequently talk of the wonderful days when we all did yoga together. We can visualize Francis quietly going about his business of helping you, Elaine, in any way he could while being an active participant in class.
Dear Francis, What a treasured friend you have been...what a wonderful priest without borders you are... your very existence has led many to the God you have loved so well. Thank you so much for sharing that last visit with me even when you were already suffering--and yet could listen patiently to my stories, asking discerning questions, and adding your own insights to enrich the narration. You are a good and just man.
I always learned deeply from you, even when there were no words spoken.
I always felt when Francis looked at me he was trying to peer into my soul. While I’m not perfect I never feared what he would find but I was often curious about his thoughts. I felt that he recognized my strengths and didn’t judge me for my weaknesses. I was always amazed at his patience in Yoga. When his body started to give up (his heart n soul never did) he would continue to help you do demos, even though I could see something just wasn’t the same.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
We Buried Francis' Bones and Planted Francis' Tree
Dear Family and Friends,
Francis didn't hesitate to call things by their names. Because he was cremated, and since "cremains" include many bone shards, it was literally Francis' bones that we buried at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale on Saturday.
Twenty-one of us family and friends gathered there on the Goulet-McGillicuddy plot with our nephew, Rev. Terence Curry, S.J. who had driven from Holy Cross College in Worcester, MA, to lead Francis' internment service. Francis' siblings, Jo (of Houlton) and Lou (of Cape Elizabeth) were there along with Jo's husband Lou Curry. My 90 + year old aunt, my mother's last sibling, was there with my cousin George and another cousin Lillian. All the rest were dear friends.
We sang two hymns both fitting for Francis:
YOU ARE MINE by David Haas
Refrain: Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home: I love you and you are mine.
Verses :
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear. You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still and know I am here.
I am hope for all who are hopeless, I am eyes for all who long to see. In the shadows of the night, I will be your light, come and rest in me.
I am strength for all the despairing, healing for the ones who dwell in shame. All the blind will see, the lame will all run free, and all will know my name. I...
am the Word that leads all to freedom, I...
am the peace the world cannot give. I will call your name, embracing all your pain, stand up, now walk, and live!
******************************************************
Terry then recited some prayers, including antiphonal prayer (call and response) and I proclaimed this passage which I've always found very compelling from
St.Paul's Letter to the Romans 8:35-36; 37-9:1:
Who shall separate us from the Love of God?
Will anguish or distress, or persecution or hunger?
Or nakedness, or danger, or the sword?
No, in all these things we overcome overwhelmingly
through Him who loved us.
For I am certain of this:
that neither death nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities,
nor things present, nor things to come,
nor powers, nor height, nor depth,
nor any other creature
will be able to separate us
from the Love of God
made visible in Christ Jesus.
This was our final hymn:
WE ARE CALLED by David Hass
Refrain:
We are called to act with justice, we are called to love tenderly, we are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God.
Verses:
Come! Live in the light! Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord! We are called to be light for the kingdom, to live in the freedom of the city of God!
Come! Open your heart! Show your mercy to all those in fear! We are called to be hope for hopeless so all hatred and blindness will be no more!
Sing! Sing a new song! Sing of that great day when all will be one! God will reign, and we'll walk with each other as sisters and brothers united in love!
Lynn, Lee and Rowan's presence with us (both Sat and Sun) meant a lot to me. I was heartened to see Rowan singing along with her dad crouched on the grass for her to see the words as he pointed them out. And I was glad the words of the hymn might reassure her. And us.
A good friend called our committal service "suitably simple and completely reflective of the one we were there to honor." Well put. For me there was also a kind of unreality in the reality we were going through. Actually I felt the whole weekend took on this tone.
But both on Saturday when we afterwards moved on to the Oak Street Bistro in Alfred to share a tasty meal, and on Sunday after our tree planting ceremony when we moved on to our joyous community potluck, there was this blending of tears and laughter. I thought it was good, good for us, and good for a child to learn this balance.
The Planting of Our Be-Loved Francis' Tree on Sunday, took place on the front lawn under sunny blue skies. Lynn, Lee and Rowan stood next to me facing our house while a large group of friends fanned out along the lawn, with one on the porch, facing us and the street. Abigail our neighbor's grandchild and Rowan's playmate stood next to her, close to the Rowan Tree behind us (That's literally its name) which for the first time since it was planted in 2007 displayed a large white blossom at its crown! Shawn, our arborist had already dug the hole, and a pile of rich humus sat waiting for the final internment of our living tree which stood as our centerpiece -- Francis' Japanese Stewartia Psudocamellia tree. Now 20' tall, it will slowly but eventually grow to 40' in height and 20' in width.
Before sharing a few details about what Rowan calls the "pepere tree" I reviewed for everyone our simple agenda:
A A few remarks about the tree itself and the intention of the planting;
B My reading of the Roman 8 passage I had read on Saturday;
C Sharing of two poems, one very personal, the second inviting deep thought from all of us;
D Reading of several of many comments about Francis which I will email to everyone.
E Finally, (I told those gathered,) they would have time to speak about what Francis means to them.
F We would then plant our tree and
G Share our potluck on the other side of the house, near the chicken coop and grape trellis. (Tiny little grape clusters are already visible!)
About the Japanese Stewartia Pseudocamellia:
Once its trunk attains a diameter of 2 - 3 inches it features stunning bark that exfoliates in strips of gray, orange, and reddish brown. The serrated foliage changes with the seasons: bronzy purple in spring, dark green by summer and red or orange in the fall. In midsummer its gorgeous white camellia-like flowers open in random succession. Someone said it looks like Francis! -- tall and graceful.
The Intention of this Tree Planting, I explained, is not just to honor Francis' memory. From the beginning I've wanted it to symbolize and express and celebrate love that keeps on growing, -- Francis' love and mine, and the love of all of us. I'm convinced that Francis' love did not stop or get fixated at a certain level when he died, and that he did not pass into a different remote universe from the one in which we live. This ONE mysterious universe in which we all live encompasses both the living and those we call dead. I say "those we call dead" because, as the Catholic liturgy says about people who die: "Life is changed, not taken away."
I then read this Rilke poem and Letter after sharing the Romans 8 reading:
To the Beloved
Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you., without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.
From The Book of Hours II,7
Life's Other Half
"I am not saying that we should love death, but rather that we should love life so generously, without picking and choosing, that we automatically include it (life's other half) in our love. This is what actually happens in the great expansiveness of love, which cannot be stopped or constricted. It is only because we exclude it that death becomes more and more foreign to us and, ultimately, our enemy.
It is conceivable that death is infinitely closer to us than life itself....
What do we know of it?"From Rilke's Letter to Countess Margot Sizzo-Noris-Crouy, Epiphany, 1923
The Personal Part
When all this unfolded there were tears and laughter as I was moved to spontaneously share a few "unpublished" personal stories not included here. At one point, when the tears came strong out of my heart, wanting to reassure Rowan that tears are okay, and even healing, I used the expression "agony and ecstasy" and tried to explain in child's language, in the presence of everyone, what these words mean.
But later at the end of the tree planting day, that night when everything had been picked up, sitting in the rich silence in Francis' usual place on our futon, I realized that "ecstasy" is not the apt word. It's not ecstasy but soul satisfaction I get, just sitting. Twice daily. That's where my treasure is. That's where I find the strength to go on.
One of the personal yet "unpublished" things I shared during our tree planting fest, and which I sort of hesitate to share online, is my prayer to Francis. But why not? It's actually a partial list of Francis' unique qualities, those I need to internalize. Since I no longer have access to them through Francis' physical presence, -- a sort of external access, -- I must now access them internally by bringing those qualities into my own self. That way I won't be bereft of the ways in which he balanced me. I will be able to become more fully myself, in Francis. Or, Francis lives in me, as someone wrote she hoped would happen. "Une vie a deux," is the expression that came to me weeks ago.
This is my prayer to Francis so far. It's "a take" on the ancient prayer, "Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your Love."
"Come darling Francis, fill me with your spirit,
your level headedness and gentle wit,
the wisdom of your patience and presence to the world,
your poetic soul and surrender to Mystery.
Give me courage, and the will to live."
I explained that "presence to the world" refers to Francis' interest in what's going on in the world by his reading The New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly etc, etc He also enjoyed going to Starbucks for a cup of coffee to read The Boston Globe. I plan to try doing just that some time.
People's Sharing their comments about Francis
Jaynie Schiff-Verre's explanation -- how Quakers listen and then wait a few breaths before another speaks, to honor what was said and the person who shared it, created a thoughtful atmosphere. But I can't adequately reproduce here now what people shared standing together around our Francis Tree. There was the speaker with her/his emotions and the intonation and the heart. I couldn't do it justice. So I will share the quotes about Francis which I've been gathering together, soon.
Love,
Elaine
Francis didn't hesitate to call things by their names. Because he was cremated, and since "cremains" include many bone shards, it was literally Francis' bones that we buried at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale on Saturday.
Twenty-one of us family and friends gathered there on the Goulet-McGillicuddy plot with our nephew, Rev. Terence Curry, S.J. who had driven from Holy Cross College in Worcester, MA, to lead Francis' internment service. Francis' siblings, Jo (of Houlton) and Lou (of Cape Elizabeth) were there along with Jo's husband Lou Curry. My 90 + year old aunt, my mother's last sibling, was there with my cousin George and another cousin Lillian. All the rest were dear friends.
We sang two hymns both fitting for Francis:
YOU ARE MINE by David Haas
Refrain: Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home: I love you and you are mine.
Verses :
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear. You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still and know I am here.
I am hope for all who are hopeless, I am eyes for all who long to see. In the shadows of the night, I will be your light, come and rest in me.
I am strength for all the despairing, healing for the ones who dwell in shame. All the blind will see, the lame will all run free, and all will know my name. I...
am the Word that leads all to freedom, I...
am the peace the world cannot give. I will call your name, embracing all your pain, stand up, now walk, and live!
******************************************************
Terry then recited some prayers, including antiphonal prayer (call and response) and I proclaimed this passage which I've always found very compelling from
St.Paul's Letter to the Romans 8:35-36; 37-9:1:
Who shall separate us from the Love of God?
Will anguish or distress, or persecution or hunger?
Or nakedness, or danger, or the sword?
No, in all these things we overcome overwhelmingly
through Him who loved us.
For I am certain of this:
that neither death nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities,
nor things present, nor things to come,
nor powers, nor height, nor depth,
nor any other creature
will be able to separate us
from the Love of God
made visible in Christ Jesus.
This was our final hymn:
WE ARE CALLED by David Hass
Refrain:
We are called to act with justice, we are called to love tenderly, we are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God.
Verses:
Come! Live in the light! Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord! We are called to be light for the kingdom, to live in the freedom of the city of God!
Come! Open your heart! Show your mercy to all those in fear! We are called to be hope for hopeless so all hatred and blindness will be no more!
Sing! Sing a new song! Sing of that great day when all will be one! God will reign, and we'll walk with each other as sisters and brothers united in love!
Lynn, Lee and Rowan's presence with us (both Sat and Sun) meant a lot to me. I was heartened to see Rowan singing along with her dad crouched on the grass for her to see the words as he pointed them out. And I was glad the words of the hymn might reassure her. And us.
A good friend called our committal service "suitably simple and completely reflective of the one we were there to honor." Well put. For me there was also a kind of unreality in the reality we were going through. Actually I felt the whole weekend took on this tone.
But both on Saturday when we afterwards moved on to the Oak Street Bistro in Alfred to share a tasty meal, and on Sunday after our tree planting ceremony when we moved on to our joyous community potluck, there was this blending of tears and laughter. I thought it was good, good for us, and good for a child to learn this balance.
The Planting of Our Be-Loved Francis' Tree on Sunday, took place on the front lawn under sunny blue skies. Lynn, Lee and Rowan stood next to me facing our house while a large group of friends fanned out along the lawn, with one on the porch, facing us and the street. Abigail our neighbor's grandchild and Rowan's playmate stood next to her, close to the Rowan Tree behind us (That's literally its name) which for the first time since it was planted in 2007 displayed a large white blossom at its crown! Shawn, our arborist had already dug the hole, and a pile of rich humus sat waiting for the final internment of our living tree which stood as our centerpiece -- Francis' Japanese Stewartia Psudocamellia tree. Now 20' tall, it will slowly but eventually grow to 40' in height and 20' in width.
Before sharing a few details about what Rowan calls the "pepere tree" I reviewed for everyone our simple agenda:
A A few remarks about the tree itself and the intention of the planting;
B My reading of the Roman 8 passage I had read on Saturday;
C Sharing of two poems, one very personal, the second inviting deep thought from all of us;
D Reading of several of many comments about Francis which I will email to everyone.
E Finally, (I told those gathered,) they would have time to speak about what Francis means to them.
F We would then plant our tree and
G Share our potluck on the other side of the house, near the chicken coop and grape trellis. (Tiny little grape clusters are already visible!)
About the Japanese Stewartia Pseudocamellia:
Once its trunk attains a diameter of 2 - 3 inches it features stunning bark that exfoliates in strips of gray, orange, and reddish brown. The serrated foliage changes with the seasons: bronzy purple in spring, dark green by summer and red or orange in the fall. In midsummer its gorgeous white camellia-like flowers open in random succession. Someone said it looks like Francis! -- tall and graceful.
The Intention of this Tree Planting, I explained, is not just to honor Francis' memory. From the beginning I've wanted it to symbolize and express and celebrate love that keeps on growing, -- Francis' love and mine, and the love of all of us. I'm convinced that Francis' love did not stop or get fixated at a certain level when he died, and that he did not pass into a different remote universe from the one in which we live. This ONE mysterious universe in which we all live encompasses both the living and those we call dead. I say "those we call dead" because, as the Catholic liturgy says about people who die: "Life is changed, not taken away."
I then read this Rilke poem and Letter after sharing the Romans 8 reading:
To the Beloved
Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you., without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.
From The Book of Hours II,7
Life's Other Half
"I am not saying that we should love death, but rather that we should love life so generously, without picking and choosing, that we automatically include it (life's other half) in our love. This is what actually happens in the great expansiveness of love, which cannot be stopped or constricted. It is only because we exclude it that death becomes more and more foreign to us and, ultimately, our enemy.
It is conceivable that death is infinitely closer to us than life itself....
What do we know of it?"From Rilke's Letter to Countess Margot Sizzo-Noris-Crouy, Epiphany, 1923
The Personal Part
When all this unfolded there were tears and laughter as I was moved to spontaneously share a few "unpublished" personal stories not included here. At one point, when the tears came strong out of my heart, wanting to reassure Rowan that tears are okay, and even healing, I used the expression "agony and ecstasy" and tried to explain in child's language, in the presence of everyone, what these words mean.
But later at the end of the tree planting day, that night when everything had been picked up, sitting in the rich silence in Francis' usual place on our futon, I realized that "ecstasy" is not the apt word. It's not ecstasy but soul satisfaction I get, just sitting. Twice daily. That's where my treasure is. That's where I find the strength to go on.
One of the personal yet "unpublished" things I shared during our tree planting fest, and which I sort of hesitate to share online, is my prayer to Francis. But why not? It's actually a partial list of Francis' unique qualities, those I need to internalize. Since I no longer have access to them through Francis' physical presence, -- a sort of external access, -- I must now access them internally by bringing those qualities into my own self. That way I won't be bereft of the ways in which he balanced me. I will be able to become more fully myself, in Francis. Or, Francis lives in me, as someone wrote she hoped would happen. "Une vie a deux," is the expression that came to me weeks ago.
This is my prayer to Francis so far. It's "a take" on the ancient prayer, "Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your Love."
"Come darling Francis, fill me with your spirit,
your level headedness and gentle wit,
the wisdom of your patience and presence to the world,
your poetic soul and surrender to Mystery.
Give me courage, and the will to live."
I explained that "presence to the world" refers to Francis' interest in what's going on in the world by his reading The New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly etc, etc He also enjoyed going to Starbucks for a cup of coffee to read The Boston Globe. I plan to try doing just that some time.
People's Sharing their comments about Francis
Jaynie Schiff-Verre's explanation -- how Quakers listen and then wait a few breaths before another speaks, to honor what was said and the person who shared it, created a thoughtful atmosphere. But I can't adequately reproduce here now what people shared standing together around our Francis Tree. There was the speaker with her/his emotions and the intonation and the heart. I couldn't do it justice. So I will share the quotes about Francis which I've been gathering together, soon.
Love,
Elaine
Friday, May 21, 2010
I forgot the best part + 2 quotes
Dear Family and Friends,
Before going to bed last night, I looked once more at the tender note Rowan wrote me this afternoon. But this time I realized I had forgotten to relate the best part, -- Rowan's excellent drawing on the other side of the "envelope" depicting a broadly smiling, bearded Francis.
This afternoon she had kept pointing out the drawing, waiting, it seemed, for a response. I had told her: "Oh, yes! Pepere has a beard, and he's really smiling." But it wasn't until last night that I realized I had failed to notice, ( maybe in the emotion of the moment,) the word Rowan had written near Francis' head, encircled in cartoon fashion:
"Hi !" with a clear exclamation point.
In her drawing Francis is saying "Hi !" He's communicating with a broad smile. It's the "Communion of the Saints," one dogma of the church I really appreciate!
Since that reminded me of the article in The New Yorker to which our friend Gloria drew my attention: "Good Grief, Is There A Better Way To Be Bereaved?" by Meghan O'Rourke (Feb 1, 2010) I dug it out then and there and copied this passage:
"Perhaps the most enduring psychiatric idea about grief,...is the idea that people need to 'let go' in order to move on; yet studies have shown that some mourners hold on to a relationship with the deceased with no notable ill effects. In China, mourners regularly speak to dead ancestors, and one study has shown that the bereaved there suffer less long-term distress than bereaved Americans do."
Gloria also sent me an article about Lydia Davis' writing which includes this powerful and pithy poem:
Head, Heart
by Lydia Davis
Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.
So we mourners weep. But we also say "Hi!"
Elaine
Before going to bed last night, I looked once more at the tender note Rowan wrote me this afternoon. But this time I realized I had forgotten to relate the best part, -- Rowan's excellent drawing on the other side of the "envelope" depicting a broadly smiling, bearded Francis.
This afternoon she had kept pointing out the drawing, waiting, it seemed, for a response. I had told her: "Oh, yes! Pepere has a beard, and he's really smiling." But it wasn't until last night that I realized I had failed to notice, ( maybe in the emotion of the moment,) the word Rowan had written near Francis' head, encircled in cartoon fashion:
"Hi !" with a clear exclamation point.
In her drawing Francis is saying "Hi !" He's communicating with a broad smile. It's the "Communion of the Saints," one dogma of the church I really appreciate!
Since that reminded me of the article in The New Yorker to which our friend Gloria drew my attention: "Good Grief, Is There A Better Way To Be Bereaved?" by Meghan O'Rourke (Feb 1, 2010) I dug it out then and there and copied this passage:
"Perhaps the most enduring psychiatric idea about grief,...is the idea that people need to 'let go' in order to move on; yet studies have shown that some mourners hold on to a relationship with the deceased with no notable ill effects. In China, mourners regularly speak to dead ancestors, and one study has shown that the bereaved there suffer less long-term distress than bereaved Americans do."
Gloria also sent me an article about Lydia Davis' writing which includes this powerful and pithy poem:
Head, Heart
by Lydia Davis
Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.
So we mourners weep. But we also say "Hi!"
Elaine
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