Dear Family and Friends,
Early after Francis' death I've visualized and planned for a tree planting ceremony, not just in Francis' memory, or in his honor, but to symbolize our love that is stronger than death, (Song of Songs 8:6.) and that keeps on growing. (My view is bolstered by theology. See my reference below* to Elizabeth Johnson's book.)
But when we plant it on June 12, I'll proclaim it's a tree that symbolizes your love too, all of your loves that keep on growing, not only Francis' and mine.
Some of you have told me that you feel close to Francis, that you light a candle or incense for him in your daily prayer, or that he came to you in prayer, or in a dream. One of you said she never felt the presence of someone who had died before, but she does feel Francis' presence. Another referred to "our beloved Francis" in an email yesterday. So I awoke yesterday morning with the idea of calling the tree -- "Our Beloved Francis Tree."
But there's another reason: Among other endearments, Francis and I often called one another "my beloved," especially I, toward the end of his life. So it's not surprising that during my twice daily Sitting Practice (aka Meditation, or Centering Prayer,) the word "beloved" very often comes up.
About a month ago, it suddenly came to me "out of the blue:" The noun "beloved" became the sentence "Be loved ! " Francis was telling me to -- "BE LOVED" !!
There's solid ground for this too: When I was learning how to pray as a young nun, we were told to just sit comfortably, relax, watch our breath slowing down, and, with or without a "Centering Prayer" word (or mantra,) to simply let ourselves be loved by God who IS Love.
I can't tell you how fruitful that one word, now also two words, have become in my life. I share these stories hoping they will give you fruit too.
So, come to our home, 62 Avalon Road, Portland, Maine 04103 on Saturday June 12 to celebrate the planting of "Our Beloved Francis Tree!" Arrive around 3:30 pm for a 4:00 pm tree planting followed by a supper potluck. (Rain day -- Sunday June 13)
By then our grapevines should be in bloom, and our fruit trees producing perhaps tiny cherries, plums and peaches, and the strawberries are likely to be ripe beside our lily-padded, frog inhabited pond with its solar powered waterfall. And we can't leave out our darling, entertaining chickens, running around in their elegant pen!!
I say "our" because it's Francis who helped me put in place the foundation (on our 8,000 sq ft lot) for this Permaculture Eden. Ours is a demonstration site for creating an edible landscape, or an ecological system in suburbia.
But, as our Permaculture Community members do every time we share food, if possible, along with food to share, please bring your own plate, bowl, utensils and cup. I'll provide napkins and yes, extras of everything for those who don't remember, but it would be a help if you did.
I have more Rowan stories to tell, but this email is long enough as is.
As the Buddhists say, -- May all beings be well, may all beings be happy. Peace, Peace, Peace.
Much love and gratitude,
Elaine
* In her book Friends of God and Prophets, A Feminist Theological Reading of the Communion of the Saints," Elizabeth Johnson writes that "religious scholars...think that human development is perhaps not frozen at death but that maturity is a continuing possibility." (p. 188) And, -- that "heaven is the symbol of a community of love sharing the life of God. This entails forever exploring the absolute mystery of the Other with new discoveries forever abounding..."(p. 190)
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Francis' committal/burial and quote
Dear Family and Friends,
First, -- the quote:
When I went for my colonoscopy this morning (and it went well, even without sedatives,) I brought along a small journal in which I keep poems and passages, half of which I've already memorized, and half that I plan to memorize. I rediscovered there this moving quote from Karl Rahner, the Jesuit who wrote The Theology of Death:
"The great and sad mistake of many people is to imagine that those whom death has taken, leave us. They do not leave us. They remain. Where are they? In darkness? Oh no! It is we who are in darkness. We do not see them, but they see us. Their eyes, radiant with glory, are fixed on our eyes. O infinite consolation! Though invisible to us, our dead are not absent...They are living near us, transfigured...into light, into power, into love."
Now the specifics:
If you would like to carpool to go to Francis' committal/burial on
Saturday May 22 at noon, could you let me know? I'd be happy to coordinate rides.
Could you let me know also -- if you want to join us for lunch at a restaurant ?
I think it would help to know how many are coming, when I try to negotiate the "discount coupons" which the "Oak Street Bistro" offers online. The Bistro in Alfred is not too far from Springvale.
To get directions to the cemetery just do an online search for: Notre Dame Cemetery, Pine Street Springvale, Maine. I easily found it at: http://maps.google.com
But if you don't use an online mapquest, here are the directions: Get onto Main Street in Springvale, (a twin-town of Sanford,) go through the square driving toward Mousam Lake. But take a right onto Mill Street. It's easy to recognize where you take a right onto Mill Street (if you're already on MAIN STREET) because there's a Courthouse on the left, and then the Springvale Library on the left -- right across the street from Mill Street where you would turn right. Then from Mill Street, take a left (the 2nd left I think) onto Pine Street. Drive to the end of Pine Street where you'll see the cemetery.
Thanks for your support, those who said they're coming, and those who'll be with us in spirit.
Love,
Elaine
First, -- the quote:
When I went for my colonoscopy this morning (and it went well, even without sedatives,) I brought along a small journal in which I keep poems and passages, half of which I've already memorized, and half that I plan to memorize. I rediscovered there this moving quote from Karl Rahner, the Jesuit who wrote The Theology of Death:
"The great and sad mistake of many people is to imagine that those whom death has taken, leave us. They do not leave us. They remain. Where are they? In darkness? Oh no! It is we who are in darkness. We do not see them, but they see us. Their eyes, radiant with glory, are fixed on our eyes. O infinite consolation! Though invisible to us, our dead are not absent...They are living near us, transfigured...into light, into power, into love."
Now the specifics:
If you would like to carpool to go to Francis' committal/burial on
Saturday May 22 at noon, could you let me know? I'd be happy to coordinate rides.
Could you let me know also -- if you want to join us for lunch at a restaurant ?
I think it would help to know how many are coming, when I try to negotiate the "discount coupons" which the "Oak Street Bistro" offers online. The Bistro in Alfred is not too far from Springvale.
To get directions to the cemetery just do an online search for: Notre Dame Cemetery, Pine Street Springvale, Maine. I easily found it at: http://maps.google.com
But if you don't use an online mapquest, here are the directions: Get onto Main Street in Springvale, (a twin-town of Sanford,) go through the square driving toward Mousam Lake. But take a right onto Mill Street. It's easy to recognize where you take a right onto Mill Street (if you're already on MAIN STREET) because there's a Courthouse on the left, and then the Springvale Library on the left -- right across the street from Mill Street where you would turn right. Then from Mill Street, take a left (the 2nd left I think) onto Pine Street. Drive to the end of Pine Street where you'll see the cemetery.
Thanks for your support, those who said they're coming, and those who'll be with us in spirit.
Love,
Elaine
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Date of Francis' Burial + note
Dear Family and Friends,
You're all invited to join us at 12:00 noon for Francis' Burial, (or what they now call "Committal,") at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale Maine, on Saturday, May 22, 2010. Francis' and my nephew Rev. Terrence Curry S.J. who officiated at Francis' funeral in Portland will officiate there as well. And we hope Rev. Richard D Bertrand S.J. will come to participate as appropriate. I'm so grateful Francis' siblings and family in Maine, Josephine & Lou Curry of Houlton and Lou McGillicuddy of Cape Elizabeth and maybe others too, will be present for this brief ceremony!
We'll be going out for lunch afterwards at a local restaurant in Springvale or Sanford, its twin town. Join us for that too.
Absorbing the reality of Francis' death is the biggest challenge I have ever faced. I understand those who say the grief never goes away; one just learns to live with it. In fact, because love is wedded to the grief I wouldn't want it any other way. However, I told a friend last week that my gratitude is beginning to outweigh my grief. It's as if there are two rivers within me, -- the river of grief, and the river of gratitude. And the river of grief is beginning to merge with the deeper river of gratitude.
I'm filled with gratitude for the blessing of so many good friends! One told me recently: "You may be physically alone now, but you are surrounded by a loving community." And what a treasure I have, -- having lived with Francis all these years! And now I can say with confidence, -- my greatest treasure is Francis' supportive, loving presence, -- with me at all times.
There's so much going on interiorly I'm doing a lot of journaling. The grief books have mostly given way to even more helpful theology books: The Theology of Death by Karl Rahner; a book by Marc Oraison, Death - And Then What? who wrote the preface for La Mort Est Une Nouvelle Naissance (tr: Death Is A New Birth;) and the illuminating book I paid $114. to get online (because it's out of print and rare, but I really wanted it!) -- The Mystery of Death by Ladislaus Boros.
The material in these books is buoying my spirit and supporting my journey. When I'm ready, I'd like to share what I'm learning (and likely our story) in some form of written material. Who knows? Maybe it'll be "A Letter to our Godchild Rowan." (She'll turn 6 years old next week.) That's not a bad idea either because Rowan is endearing herself to me on those Thursday afternoons when I pick her up at school until her mother Lynn joins us for supper.
I'm beginning to collect some sweet Rowan stories, e.g. Right in the middle of supper last week, without my having said anything earlier about Francis or about love never dying, Rowan said, (and I quickly grabbed a pen and wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper on the kitchen counter:) "Love is in you. God you will find in your heart. God you will find everywhere you go. God will say 'Sorry' when people die. Got it? That's my idea."
Here's another: Two years ago Francis and I bought a 3' statue of St. Francis of Assisi which we placed outside facing the pond. But during the winter, we placed it in the side entrance, facing the outside, side door. When Rowan first saw it she said: "There's Pepere." (She's right! It looks so much like Francis that our friends who helped make funeral preparations decided to bring it to Francis' wake and funeral.)
Well, two Thursdays ago when Rowan and I walked through the side entrance and saw the statue (which I decided to leave there now to "greet visitors" as they open the door,) Rowan picked up a soft old-fashioned brush and brushed off the statue. Then last Thursday she picked up the brush again and said, while brushing it: "Have you been taking care of Pepere? You've got to use this brush to keep him clean! Do it every day!" I was flabbergasted and delighted.
Later that afternoon when Rowan and I went into the living room, we passed the two large posters of photos of Francis which friends had put together for the wake and funeral reception. (The posters are still there because I plan to add more photos, have them shrink-wrapped and put aside for posterity, -- meaning Rowan.) When I finished putting a big book back on the bookcase near the posters and turned around, I saw Rowan hugging the large picture of Francis centered at the head of the poster. So I said: "Can I have a hug too?" But Rowan said, -- "No, you're in the picture too, so I gave you a hug with Pepere."
Thank you for your prayers dear family and friends. I still need them!
Loving gratitude,
Elaine
You're all invited to join us at 12:00 noon for Francis' Burial, (or what they now call "Committal,") at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale Maine, on Saturday, May 22, 2010. Francis' and my nephew Rev. Terrence Curry S.J. who officiated at Francis' funeral in Portland will officiate there as well. And we hope Rev. Richard D Bertrand S.J. will come to participate as appropriate. I'm so grateful Francis' siblings and family in Maine, Josephine & Lou Curry of Houlton and Lou McGillicuddy of Cape Elizabeth and maybe others too, will be present for this brief ceremony!
We'll be going out for lunch afterwards at a local restaurant in Springvale or Sanford, its twin town. Join us for that too.
Absorbing the reality of Francis' death is the biggest challenge I have ever faced. I understand those who say the grief never goes away; one just learns to live with it. In fact, because love is wedded to the grief I wouldn't want it any other way. However, I told a friend last week that my gratitude is beginning to outweigh my grief. It's as if there are two rivers within me, -- the river of grief, and the river of gratitude. And the river of grief is beginning to merge with the deeper river of gratitude.
I'm filled with gratitude for the blessing of so many good friends! One told me recently: "You may be physically alone now, but you are surrounded by a loving community." And what a treasure I have, -- having lived with Francis all these years! And now I can say with confidence, -- my greatest treasure is Francis' supportive, loving presence, -- with me at all times.
There's so much going on interiorly I'm doing a lot of journaling. The grief books have mostly given way to even more helpful theology books: The Theology of Death by Karl Rahner; a book by Marc Oraison, Death - And Then What? who wrote the preface for La Mort Est Une Nouvelle Naissance (tr: Death Is A New Birth;) and the illuminating book I paid $114. to get online (because it's out of print and rare, but I really wanted it!) -- The Mystery of Death by Ladislaus Boros.
The material in these books is buoying my spirit and supporting my journey. When I'm ready, I'd like to share what I'm learning (and likely our story) in some form of written material. Who knows? Maybe it'll be "A Letter to our Godchild Rowan." (She'll turn 6 years old next week.) That's not a bad idea either because Rowan is endearing herself to me on those Thursday afternoons when I pick her up at school until her mother Lynn joins us for supper.
I'm beginning to collect some sweet Rowan stories, e.g. Right in the middle of supper last week, without my having said anything earlier about Francis or about love never dying, Rowan said, (and I quickly grabbed a pen and wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper on the kitchen counter:) "Love is in you. God you will find in your heart. God you will find everywhere you go. God will say 'Sorry' when people die. Got it? That's my idea."
Here's another: Two years ago Francis and I bought a 3' statue of St. Francis of Assisi which we placed outside facing the pond. But during the winter, we placed it in the side entrance, facing the outside, side door. When Rowan first saw it she said: "There's Pepere." (She's right! It looks so much like Francis that our friends who helped make funeral preparations decided to bring it to Francis' wake and funeral.)
Well, two Thursdays ago when Rowan and I walked through the side entrance and saw the statue (which I decided to leave there now to "greet visitors" as they open the door,) Rowan picked up a soft old-fashioned brush and brushed off the statue. Then last Thursday she picked up the brush again and said, while brushing it: "Have you been taking care of Pepere? You've got to use this brush to keep him clean! Do it every day!" I was flabbergasted and delighted.
Later that afternoon when Rowan and I went into the living room, we passed the two large posters of photos of Francis which friends had put together for the wake and funeral reception. (The posters are still there because I plan to add more photos, have them shrink-wrapped and put aside for posterity, -- meaning Rowan.) When I finished putting a big book back on the bookcase near the posters and turned around, I saw Rowan hugging the large picture of Francis centered at the head of the poster. So I said: "Can I have a hug too?" But Rowan said, -- "No, you're in the picture too, so I gave you a hug with Pepere."
Thank you for your prayers dear family and friends. I still need them!
Loving gratitude,
Elaine
Friday, February 5, 2010
A Month Later & Bill Gregory's Column on Francis' Funeral
Dear Family and Friends,
Stu O'Brien, a member of CORPUS who's in charge of "Member Services" (He himself lost his wife not many years ago) sent me a helpful little book -- Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. I also finished reading a small book Living When A Loved One Has Died by Rabbi Earl Grollman. It was recommended by Linda Hopkins, VNA's Home Health and HOSPICE "Bereavement Coordinator" who came to our home for an hour this week just to talk but also to invite me to the weekly Grief Support Group she's organizing, beginning next Tuesday. I'll go see if it's a good fit.
I also ordered a few other books suggested in Linda's Grief Notes monthly newsletter. It's good to have these resources. I don't need a book to tell me that the loss of a spouse is an "intense anguish." But it is helpful to learn that grief can leave one feeling confused, fragile, unproductive and even with a kind of "cognitive dissonance."
It's also good to be reassured that "Grief takes its time, and for a while it occupies all our time, ...The process will not be cheated. It will take as much time as it needs...Grief will tell me what it needs from me at each step along the way."
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' and coauthor David Kessler' On Grief and Grieving even speak of "The Gift of Grief:" "Most important, grief is an emotional, spiritual and psychological journey to healing." Yet, -- "You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will 'learn to live with it.'"
There's been a lot to do since Francis' funeral, -- making changes in legal documents, giving away Francis' clothing, (I'm wearing around the house what loosely fits me of his clothes,) and now taxes are coming up, plus thank you cards I still want and plan to write, etc. etc.
Though I find myself unable to take in much world news except for Haiti, I've begun connecting with some friends. Last Sunday I went to a Portland Symphony Concert (benefit for Haiti,) and plan to go to other PSO Concerts (Webber's and Mozart's Requiem.) I remember how helpful music was for me after my father died. And I also plan to go to a reading performance next Saturday at Woodfords' Congregational Church on Etty Hillesun's An Interrupted Life, written during the Holocaust. Organized by the Portland Conservatory of Music, the performance will be accompanied by a cello.
After tending to necessities, my attention has been drawn, however, to reading what Francis and I wrote to each other over the years: His love letters written in the summer of 1970 when we were physically separated during my summer studies at Providence College after I had left the convent that January of the same 1970; our Marriage Encounter notebooks, http://www.marriage-encounter.org/; and now I want to read Francis' journal written before I met him and my own journals. So I've postponed teaching my Wednesday AM yoga class until April when the spring session begins.
Yes, I'm finding nourishment in our own words. Francis' last words spoken approx 26 hours before he died, are imprinted on my heart: " I feel so good! So good! I don't know which step this is along the way. But whatever step it is, I embrace it. I don't know if it's the earliest step or not, -- no, I don't know, but I embrace it. I do embrace it! Now let me rest."
My consolation lies in Francis' total readiness, even his blissful readiness to pass. He's pain free now, and won't have to experience being a widower!
Although memories give me a stab of pain because they underline our physical absence now, they're also and even more, such rich treasures to cherish! I give thanks to have memories like these.
I'm also consoled realizing the love we shared in this life lives on in both of us, -- and beyond. When Rowan told me spontaneously, and sadly, that she wished pepere hadn't died, I told her that yes, people die, but love never dies. In repeating it more than once -- "Love never dies," adding "Even if all the people die, love never dies,"-- she said it with spirit, as a kind of declaration.
So journeying along with the Caravan of Creation, looking ahead to where my close loved ones have passed, -- my father, my mother, and now my beloved husband Francis, -- I'm aware of the younger generation coming behind me and mine.
I'm told (in one of the Meditations:) "In the process of grief, our task is to be attentive when the messages of mind and memory come." Some of those messages seem to be coming for me through Francis' letters. His words about our physical separation in the past apply to me now, in his physical absence of another kind. Even more, I sense, his reflections and my own journals may be giving me understanding and context for the life I will go on living.
I have so much gratitude for your loving support, dear family members and friends. I thank you from my heart for your prayers/good vibes which I need and on which I very much depend.
Elaine
PS -- I learned that the national CORPUS http://www.corpus.org/ Conference will be dedicated to Francis this year. This is an annual Conference that Francis and I have planned never to miss. It's at several of these that Francis and I have prayed/chanted during the liturgy the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes -- in Aramaic. It'll be held in Fort Worth Texas, near Dallas, in June, and of course I plan to attend.
-----------
REFLECTIONS
Affirmation from a life well lived
BILL GREGORY
January 30, 2010
REFLECTIONS is a column written by members of Maine's faith-based community. Opinions expressed in the column reflect the author's view and not necessarily that of the newspaper.
Perhaps you know the experience of being part of something grand in spirit that both affirms and challenges your particular faith persuasion. The involvement acquaints you again with the heart of things, stretches your imagination of what is good and possible. I love it when it happens, and it happened to me again this winter.
Francis McGillicuddy was a good friend – not a close friend until his last weeks, but a good friend. His story is bigger than I can tell in these few words. Let it suffice to say that Francis was a lovely man, a gentle man, a strong and compassionate man in heart and spirit, a courageous man who stood quietly but clearly for moral values in the tradition of Jesus.
Francis was a man who loved Jesus and Elaine McGillicuddy. Francis was a practicing priest and Elaine was a nun when they met, when they fell in love, when their integrity and understanding of faithfulness led them out of their respective orders and vows into new ones.
I met them both in a class on poetry of the soul. Later, we met on Wednesdays at Monument Square.
Many of us shared a common need to stand as we could for what we believed in. Francis and Elaine and my wife, Nancy, and I and many others – Roman Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, humanist, gay, straight, homeless, refugee, whatever – those who shared the joy and harassment of demonstrating for justice and peace experienced the spirit I spoke of above. It was a genuine ecumenism, oneness.
Now that is a $64 word, "ecumenism." It comes from the Greek word "oikoumenikos," meaning "of or from the whole world." The emphasis in the word is on wholeness. In Christian circles, it is the name given to a movement to overcome the divisions of denominations.
Experiencing ecumenism is an experience of common calling from a voice that speaks to each of our hearts. It is not an idea as much as an inspiration. It is a sense of being connected to and working together for something greater than the individual parts, for the whole of humanity, for the whole earth. It is an experience of the Spirit.
This Spirit is larger than any of us and all of our churches. When the faithful follow where it leads, they are introduced to a oneness with humanity and a connection of compassion with one another and all beings. It is a oneness inspired and served by love.
Francis and Elaine and those of us gathered with them at Monument Square for a year and a half experienced oikoumenikos, felt something of being a part of one world, one family, justice and kindness for all flowing from the Spirit that had called us there and bonded us. Francis was at home there. Those who knew Francis knew him as the embodiment of a faithful follower of love.
He died from cancer on Jan. 3. From the day he heard the diagnosis to the day he died, he strove to live every moment of his breathing, every experience of his journey.
A vignette here to make the point: Caring for the terminally ill can focus us on the question of when and how death will come. Francis understood this and appreciated his caregiver's attention to it, attention he shared to some degree.
But more than that, he wanted to share and be present for the time he still had. His counsel to our preoccupation with the end came in these words to Elaine, "Let's take it as it comes." He was lovingly alive in this world to his last breath.
His wake and funeral were held at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic Church in Portland. Both overflowed with people touched by his spirit, by the Spirit. Being a Protestant, I felt clumsy in the Roman Catholic liturgy but not out of place in my faith.
But we, Protestant and Catholic, haven't found our way to oikoumenikos yet. The doors were opened to all who wished to attend, but Communion was not. Clearly, the dominant spirit of that place and time was welcoming, yet at the same time, a spirit that felt less welcoming kept some Christians from the table.
I have no doubt that if Francis had been serving the bread and wine, he would have brought them to me.
I and every church I have served and know have clay feet. This was acknowledged in the eulogy. It celebrated Francis' life and spirit but also lamented clergy sexual abuse. As a new priest, Francis had been taken advantage of sexually by an older priest mentor.
Francis, a child of the church, was ahead of his institution at the end of his life. Maybe that is always the way it is. Our organized churches inspire their people with the vision of the justice, the courage and kindness of Jesus – a vision the churches have more difficulty fulfilling than many of the individual people they nurture.
Francis embodied the spirit of grace, of forgiveness, kindness, justice, of deep gratitude, of humility and joy in God's love, which is evidence of the Spirit. It was nurtured in Francis by many, including his church, for which I am grateful. In the spirit of oikoumenikos, I call members of his church my brothers and sisters.
The room set aside for his wake was far from large enough for the numbers who came. The beautiful sanctuary at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic was filled with people, even more with Spirit. It was not because he was a celebrity or a public man. I think it was because our world is hungry for people who believe in and live for love and stand unequivocally for moral values.
What will be said of us when our time comes? May in some degree it be said that in our time, we were faithful to our spiritual roots and that our highest branches reached to the light, the moral values, the hope, the dream empowered by and evidence of the Spirit of love for the whole oikoumenikos.
Copyright © 2010 MaineToday Media, Inc.
Stu O'Brien, a member of CORPUS who's in charge of "Member Services" (He himself lost his wife not many years ago) sent me a helpful little book -- Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. I also finished reading a small book Living When A Loved One Has Died by Rabbi Earl Grollman. It was recommended by Linda Hopkins, VNA's Home Health and HOSPICE "Bereavement Coordinator" who came to our home for an hour this week just to talk but also to invite me to the weekly Grief Support Group she's organizing, beginning next Tuesday. I'll go see if it's a good fit.
I also ordered a few other books suggested in Linda's Grief Notes monthly newsletter. It's good to have these resources. I don't need a book to tell me that the loss of a spouse is an "intense anguish." But it is helpful to learn that grief can leave one feeling confused, fragile, unproductive and even with a kind of "cognitive dissonance."
It's also good to be reassured that "Grief takes its time, and for a while it occupies all our time, ...The process will not be cheated. It will take as much time as it needs...Grief will tell me what it needs from me at each step along the way."
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' and coauthor David Kessler' On Grief and Grieving even speak of "The Gift of Grief:" "Most important, grief is an emotional, spiritual and psychological journey to healing." Yet, -- "You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will 'learn to live with it.'"
There's been a lot to do since Francis' funeral, -- making changes in legal documents, giving away Francis' clothing, (I'm wearing around the house what loosely fits me of his clothes,) and now taxes are coming up, plus thank you cards I still want and plan to write, etc. etc.
Though I find myself unable to take in much world news except for Haiti, I've begun connecting with some friends. Last Sunday I went to a Portland Symphony Concert (benefit for Haiti,) and plan to go to other PSO Concerts (Webber's and Mozart's Requiem.) I remember how helpful music was for me after my father died. And I also plan to go to a reading performance next Saturday at Woodfords' Congregational Church on Etty Hillesun's An Interrupted Life, written during the Holocaust. Organized by the Portland Conservatory of Music, the performance will be accompanied by a cello.
After tending to necessities, my attention has been drawn, however, to reading what Francis and I wrote to each other over the years: His love letters written in the summer of 1970 when we were physically separated during my summer studies at Providence College after I had left the convent that January of the same 1970; our Marriage Encounter notebooks, http://www.marriage-encounter.org/; and now I want to read Francis' journal written before I met him and my own journals. So I've postponed teaching my Wednesday AM yoga class until April when the spring session begins.
Yes, I'm finding nourishment in our own words. Francis' last words spoken approx 26 hours before he died, are imprinted on my heart: " I feel so good! So good! I don't know which step this is along the way. But whatever step it is, I embrace it. I don't know if it's the earliest step or not, -- no, I don't know, but I embrace it. I do embrace it! Now let me rest."
My consolation lies in Francis' total readiness, even his blissful readiness to pass. He's pain free now, and won't have to experience being a widower!
Although memories give me a stab of pain because they underline our physical absence now, they're also and even more, such rich treasures to cherish! I give thanks to have memories like these.
I'm also consoled realizing the love we shared in this life lives on in both of us, -- and beyond. When Rowan told me spontaneously, and sadly, that she wished pepere hadn't died, I told her that yes, people die, but love never dies. In repeating it more than once -- "Love never dies," adding "Even if all the people die, love never dies,"-- she said it with spirit, as a kind of declaration.
So journeying along with the Caravan of Creation, looking ahead to where my close loved ones have passed, -- my father, my mother, and now my beloved husband Francis, -- I'm aware of the younger generation coming behind me and mine.
I'm told (in one of the Meditations:) "In the process of grief, our task is to be attentive when the messages of mind and memory come." Some of those messages seem to be coming for me through Francis' letters. His words about our physical separation in the past apply to me now, in his physical absence of another kind. Even more, I sense, his reflections and my own journals may be giving me understanding and context for the life I will go on living.
I have so much gratitude for your loving support, dear family members and friends. I thank you from my heart for your prayers/good vibes which I need and on which I very much depend.
Elaine
PS -- I learned that the national CORPUS http://www.corpus.org/ Conference will be dedicated to Francis this year. This is an annual Conference that Francis and I have planned never to miss. It's at several of these that Francis and I have prayed/chanted during the liturgy the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes -- in Aramaic. It'll be held in Fort Worth Texas, near Dallas, in June, and of course I plan to attend.
-----------
REFLECTIONS
Affirmation from a life well lived
BILL GREGORY
January 30, 2010
REFLECTIONS is a column written by members of Maine's faith-based community. Opinions expressed in the column reflect the author's view and not necessarily that of the newspaper.
Perhaps you know the experience of being part of something grand in spirit that both affirms and challenges your particular faith persuasion. The involvement acquaints you again with the heart of things, stretches your imagination of what is good and possible. I love it when it happens, and it happened to me again this winter.
Francis McGillicuddy was a good friend – not a close friend until his last weeks, but a good friend. His story is bigger than I can tell in these few words. Let it suffice to say that Francis was a lovely man, a gentle man, a strong and compassionate man in heart and spirit, a courageous man who stood quietly but clearly for moral values in the tradition of Jesus.
Francis was a man who loved Jesus and Elaine McGillicuddy. Francis was a practicing priest and Elaine was a nun when they met, when they fell in love, when their integrity and understanding of faithfulness led them out of their respective orders and vows into new ones.
I met them both in a class on poetry of the soul. Later, we met on Wednesdays at Monument Square.
Many of us shared a common need to stand as we could for what we believed in. Francis and Elaine and my wife, Nancy, and I and many others – Roman Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, humanist, gay, straight, homeless, refugee, whatever – those who shared the joy and harassment of demonstrating for justice and peace experienced the spirit I spoke of above. It was a genuine ecumenism, oneness.
Now that is a $64 word, "ecumenism." It comes from the Greek word "oikoumenikos," meaning "of or from the whole world." The emphasis in the word is on wholeness. In Christian circles, it is the name given to a movement to overcome the divisions of denominations.
Experiencing ecumenism is an experience of common calling from a voice that speaks to each of our hearts. It is not an idea as much as an inspiration. It is a sense of being connected to and working together for something greater than the individual parts, for the whole of humanity, for the whole earth. It is an experience of the Spirit.
This Spirit is larger than any of us and all of our churches. When the faithful follow where it leads, they are introduced to a oneness with humanity and a connection of compassion with one another and all beings. It is a oneness inspired and served by love.
Francis and Elaine and those of us gathered with them at Monument Square for a year and a half experienced oikoumenikos, felt something of being a part of one world, one family, justice and kindness for all flowing from the Spirit that had called us there and bonded us. Francis was at home there. Those who knew Francis knew him as the embodiment of a faithful follower of love.
He died from cancer on Jan. 3. From the day he heard the diagnosis to the day he died, he strove to live every moment of his breathing, every experience of his journey.
A vignette here to make the point: Caring for the terminally ill can focus us on the question of when and how death will come. Francis understood this and appreciated his caregiver's attention to it, attention he shared to some degree.
But more than that, he wanted to share and be present for the time he still had. His counsel to our preoccupation with the end came in these words to Elaine, "Let's take it as it comes." He was lovingly alive in this world to his last breath.
His wake and funeral were held at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic Church in Portland. Both overflowed with people touched by his spirit, by the Spirit. Being a Protestant, I felt clumsy in the Roman Catholic liturgy but not out of place in my faith.
But we, Protestant and Catholic, haven't found our way to oikoumenikos yet. The doors were opened to all who wished to attend, but Communion was not. Clearly, the dominant spirit of that place and time was welcoming, yet at the same time, a spirit that felt less welcoming kept some Christians from the table.
I have no doubt that if Francis had been serving the bread and wine, he would have brought them to me.
I and every church I have served and know have clay feet. This was acknowledged in the eulogy. It celebrated Francis' life and spirit but also lamented clergy sexual abuse. As a new priest, Francis had been taken advantage of sexually by an older priest mentor.
Francis, a child of the church, was ahead of his institution at the end of his life. Maybe that is always the way it is. Our organized churches inspire their people with the vision of the justice, the courage and kindness of Jesus – a vision the churches have more difficulty fulfilling than many of the individual people they nurture.
Francis embodied the spirit of grace, of forgiveness, kindness, justice, of deep gratitude, of humility and joy in God's love, which is evidence of the Spirit. It was nurtured in Francis by many, including his church, for which I am grateful. In the spirit of oikoumenikos, I call members of his church my brothers and sisters.
The room set aside for his wake was far from large enough for the numbers who came. The beautiful sanctuary at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic was filled with people, even more with Spirit. It was not because he was a celebrity or a public man. I think it was because our world is hungry for people who believe in and live for love and stand unequivocally for moral values.
What will be said of us when our time comes? May in some degree it be said that in our time, we were faithful to our spiritual roots and that our highest branches reached to the light, the moral values, the hope, the dream empowered by and evidence of the Spirit of love for the whole oikoumenikos.
Copyright © 2010 MaineToday Media, Inc.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
My next step
Dear Family and Friends,
Those of you who were at the reception at the end heard me speak spontaneously, qualifying our friend's comment that Francis and I were "always together." That's certainly true in its deepest sense, and even true in its widest sense: We did in fact do almost everything together, peacework, yoga, dances of universal peace (DUP,) permaculture, -- yes, all of it together. But, not totally.
Francis regularly protested the building of nuclear warships at Bath Ironworks whereas I went once. And although he regularly accompanied and joined me in leading the DUP when invited to do so out of town or at Conferences, he did not come to my monthly circle of DUP but only joined me in Portland on special occasions, like New Year's Eve, or at guest retreats.
Francis was very much his own person. One thing he loved to do in which I did not participate, was to go to Starbucks five days a week, drink a cup of coffee and read The Boston Globe. He loved to observe people.
At the funeral reception, toward the end, I rambled on like this with mike in hand.
But what I want to add now is what I shared before handing over the mike: I feel drawn to do what Francis told me his sitting practice was all about: "Be still and see that I am God." (Psalm 46:2) I added that I liked the play on words someone came up with: "Be still and see that I am God." "Be still and see." "Be still." "Be." That's what I need and want -- to restore my physical stamina through more rest, and to just slow down. A lot. So I can just be.
As I told a friend yesterday, "Yes, I could genuinely use your help in a few practical areas, but "Once those things are done I very much look forward to time alone, time to just do nothing. I need and want to have nothing to do, nothing scheduled." I want to enjoy doing daily chores in the silence I find very rich right now, especially since the loss of Francis' physical presence is making my heart flip more often. I need to let penetrate what happened, even while I'm going through the mail, and through our closets to give away Francis' clothing. And, taking care of the chickens too.
More than one of you asked me to "Keep writing." Perhaps I will, but right now I'm not sure how my "Be"ing will develop. As I told those who were still in the church hall, I've developed a keen awareness how easily ego slips in for self-aggrandizement's sake. It can be even more subtly insinuated when publicly doing "spiritual" things. So I'm quite wary of parading myself as a model of how to deal with grief. If I did continue writing it would have to emerge from the same kind of compelling call to do so that writing Francis' story did. It's always been that way for me. I cannot write letters to the editor at will. I have to be moved to write.
But there's something else too: I'm sensing that if I were to write about my journey of adjusting to life without Francis' physical presence, it would feel like an externalizing of something too deep for words. In fact I've experienced how the very act of trying to put experience into words can objectify and therefore diminish the depth of that experience by making it a thing separate from myself.
In other words, I sense that words, even honest words that come authentically from the heart trying to capture and remember an experience, can also somehow remove the writer from the very experience she is trying to communicate.
As I said, it was different writing Francis' story because the words as well as the details surrounding what he/we said and did were simply relating the observable facts. I intuited that later on, in pondering those cherished words of his, the memory itself could be prayer, memory itself could even become new, fresh experience in the moment of connecting with Francis. In that case the words and details would be sort of sacramental, vehicles of new exerience. I don't know if this makes any sense, but it's close to what I'm trying to say.
I want time to reread The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying which I read after my mother died, and I want to read poetry. After memorizing Shakespeare's Sonnet # 116 "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments" for Francis' 75th birthday, I found great pleasure and strength in memorizing other special sonnets of Shakespeare, -- like Sonnet # 29 "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes..." and the most poignant one of all, which has been at the backdrop of my heart ever since, is Shakespeare's Sonnet #86" "That time of year thou mayest in me behold..." These are only three of several others that nourished me. But the most nourishing one of all is Psalm 139, in French. I'm attaching it in case you're interested.
I'm not going to isolate myself from people, however, realizing that could be unhealthy. I'll begin babysitting Rowan again on Thursday of this week, something I feel ready to do. And I'm likely to see the generous people still spoiling me with a daily meal. I also plan to call on some people as needed to help me with a lot of things that must still be done, e.g. right now I'm waiting to get through to a live person at the Social Security office!
But since my body is tired and needs a lot of rest, just on the physical level I don't feel ready to teach my Wednesday morning yoga class this month. Maybe next month.
My point is, I'll know as time unfolds what to do next. Years ago Alan Eccleston a Quaker friend from western MA shared with Francis and me a wise saying from a Quaker saint...Was it John Woolman? -- that we have only enough light to see the next step.
How good that I see what my next step is: A very large space in which to just be! Then, from there, I'll have the light to see what that other next step is.
I thank you ahead of time from deep in my heart for your prayers and good energy sent my way. I really depend on those!
Maybe I will miss writing this blogspot and return sooner rather than later. But I have to go into that very large space first. Or deep down.
Elaine
Those of you who were at the reception at the end heard me speak spontaneously, qualifying our friend's comment that Francis and I were "always together." That's certainly true in its deepest sense, and even true in its widest sense: We did in fact do almost everything together, peacework, yoga, dances of universal peace (DUP,) permaculture, -- yes, all of it together. But, not totally.
Francis regularly protested the building of nuclear warships at Bath Ironworks whereas I went once. And although he regularly accompanied and joined me in leading the DUP when invited to do so out of town or at Conferences, he did not come to my monthly circle of DUP but only joined me in Portland on special occasions, like New Year's Eve, or at guest retreats.
Francis was very much his own person. One thing he loved to do in which I did not participate, was to go to Starbucks five days a week, drink a cup of coffee and read The Boston Globe. He loved to observe people.
At the funeral reception, toward the end, I rambled on like this with mike in hand.
But what I want to add now is what I shared before handing over the mike: I feel drawn to do what Francis told me his sitting practice was all about: "Be still and see that I am God." (Psalm 46:2) I added that I liked the play on words someone came up with: "Be still and see that I am God." "Be still and see." "Be still." "Be." That's what I need and want -- to restore my physical stamina through more rest, and to just slow down. A lot. So I can just be.
As I told a friend yesterday, "Yes, I could genuinely use your help in a few practical areas, but "Once those things are done I very much look forward to time alone, time to just do nothing. I need and want to have nothing to do, nothing scheduled." I want to enjoy doing daily chores in the silence I find very rich right now, especially since the loss of Francis' physical presence is making my heart flip more often. I need to let penetrate what happened, even while I'm going through the mail, and through our closets to give away Francis' clothing. And, taking care of the chickens too.
More than one of you asked me to "Keep writing." Perhaps I will, but right now I'm not sure how my "Be"ing will develop. As I told those who were still in the church hall, I've developed a keen awareness how easily ego slips in for self-aggrandizement's sake. It can be even more subtly insinuated when publicly doing "spiritual" things. So I'm quite wary of parading myself as a model of how to deal with grief. If I did continue writing it would have to emerge from the same kind of compelling call to do so that writing Francis' story did. It's always been that way for me. I cannot write letters to the editor at will. I have to be moved to write.
But there's something else too: I'm sensing that if I were to write about my journey of adjusting to life without Francis' physical presence, it would feel like an externalizing of something too deep for words. In fact I've experienced how the very act of trying to put experience into words can objectify and therefore diminish the depth of that experience by making it a thing separate from myself.
In other words, I sense that words, even honest words that come authentically from the heart trying to capture and remember an experience, can also somehow remove the writer from the very experience she is trying to communicate.
As I said, it was different writing Francis' story because the words as well as the details surrounding what he/we said and did were simply relating the observable facts. I intuited that later on, in pondering those cherished words of his, the memory itself could be prayer, memory itself could even become new, fresh experience in the moment of connecting with Francis. In that case the words and details would be sort of sacramental, vehicles of new exerience. I don't know if this makes any sense, but it's close to what I'm trying to say.
I want time to reread The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying which I read after my mother died, and I want to read poetry. After memorizing Shakespeare's Sonnet # 116 "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments" for Francis' 75th birthday, I found great pleasure and strength in memorizing other special sonnets of Shakespeare, -- like Sonnet # 29 "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes..." and the most poignant one of all, which has been at the backdrop of my heart ever since, is Shakespeare's Sonnet #86" "That time of year thou mayest in me behold..." These are only three of several others that nourished me. But the most nourishing one of all is Psalm 139, in French. I'm attaching it in case you're interested.
I'm not going to isolate myself from people, however, realizing that could be unhealthy. I'll begin babysitting Rowan again on Thursday of this week, something I feel ready to do. And I'm likely to see the generous people still spoiling me with a daily meal. I also plan to call on some people as needed to help me with a lot of things that must still be done, e.g. right now I'm waiting to get through to a live person at the Social Security office!
But since my body is tired and needs a lot of rest, just on the physical level I don't feel ready to teach my Wednesday morning yoga class this month. Maybe next month.
My point is, I'll know as time unfolds what to do next. Years ago Alan Eccleston a Quaker friend from western MA shared with Francis and me a wise saying from a Quaker saint...Was it John Woolman? -- that we have only enough light to see the next step.
How good that I see what my next step is: A very large space in which to just be! Then, from there, I'll have the light to see what that other next step is.
I thank you ahead of time from deep in my heart for your prayers and good energy sent my way. I really depend on those!
Maybe I will miss writing this blogspot and return sooner rather than later. But I have to go into that very large space first. Or deep down.
Elaine
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Wake and Funeral, & Memorabilia to Share
Dear Family and Friends,
and also lotsahelpinghands friends,
The Wake and Funeral
I want to thank all of you from my heart (and Francis' too) for your presence (bodily or spiritually) at his Friday evening wake and Saturday morning funeral on January 9. Lynn told me 200 people signed the guest book on Friday night, and Lori Arsenault who led the music for the funeral told me the church was more than 2/3 full. Another person said -- "not packed, but full." The church seats 500 people.
This outpouring of affection for Francis from family and friends from Maine and out of state created a spirit of community I cannot describe. Three married priests (like Francis) were ushers, Fr. Terry, Francis' nephew who's a Jesuit, was the main celebrant along with five other priests, one a priest/friend for 50 years. Our friends Joe Brannigan and Sue Ewing read respectively the Isaiah and Romans scripture passages "as something alive and active... like a double edged sword." as Heb 4:12 calls it. One of my very favorite quotes is in that Romans passage: "From the beginning until now the entire Creation is groaning with one great act of giving birth." Sue Ewing read it to perfection.
Fr. Richard's homily focusing rightly on our need to be ready and "awake," ended on a warm personal note since he's known Francis and me for 12 years. Bill Gregory's comments briefing participants on how helpful our singing "I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say" was for Francis touched many. And while Mike Sweatt's eulogy was delivered with refreshing honesty and passion, John Hines' two stories in his Tribute to Francis were revealing of Francis and heartwarming.
More than one person told me the whole funeral was "very moving," and the "best funeral" they'd ever been to.
I regret however that the great numbers of people at the three events, wake, funeral and reception, made it difficult for some, especially for two friends who deal with physical handicaps.
The Thank Yous
I want to thank ALL who gave Francis and me invaluable help, big and small, and prayer is not small. You helped us in many many different ways, unique to each, e.g. Kathy's lending Francis her little red bucket for stomach upsets earlier on, and Marion's giving us candles to light. One is burning now as I write to honor Francis' presence with me. I thank you all, and Marion for teaching me this.
You supported us with errands and tasks of all kinds, including meals since early autumn. Special thanks to Meg Wolff whose December meals I am certain extended Francis' life. And the January meals she organized with volunteers are enabling me to set aside rest time even as I see through to their conclusion a host of things to get done. So thank you friends on the "Meal Brigade" as I called it three months ago.
There were "lotsahelpinghands," preparing for every angle of Francis' funeral too. Lynn oversaw the whole thing with me along with a spontaneously formed committee which did both planning, and, after consultation with Fr. Richard, the work of set up and cleanup at church along with friends of theirs and ours. Thank you all whom I didn't name!
The Memorabilia to Share
Rowan's dad & mom Lee Slater and Lynn Kuzma made a CD of Francis' and my singing "Set me as a seal upon your heart" and Francis' favorite Beatitude as well as The Lord's Prayer, -- both in Aramaic. (This "Prelude" was played on the intercom at the funeral.) Computer expert Greg Born then posted this music onto YouTube as accompaniment to photos his wife Jan Born took during the reception after the funeral.
Here's the URL for those photos and chants: (Just copy it in your browser)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF73DQBKi90
*****
Then after two other crews of friends dug out photographs of Francis, Sally Waite and Deb Paley used them to make posters and Matt Power, Editor of Liberty News TV, using different photos, organized them into a DVD slide show shown on Fri & Sat.
Here's the URL for the slide show: http://www.youtube.com/user/LibertyLover#p/u/0/a9iw5X6Zr_o
*****
At the wake and reception the slideshow was viewed alongside a separate yoga video given us by Channel 13. In it Francis was my yoga student for a 3 minute live TV demonstration of one yoga pose a month. Matt had "looped together" many of the 3 minute segments. It's such fun watching Francis, looking so young and strong at 73 in 2000 doing yoga on TV! (This material however, belongs to Channel 13 so I don't feel free, nor is there need, to post it.)
But I am attaching to this email the beautiful liturgy program Lynn did a fantastic job designing and formatting. Jan Born who took many of the photos in the slideshow also took three of the four photos used in the liturgy program. My favorite shows Francis and me beaming as we stood in front of our garage at the end of a joyous permaculture workparty in July, 2007 during which 15 people had put in the pondliner and set up the hoop house for off season gardening. Celebrating with a potluck a job well done, -- but especially, celebrating the JOYS OF COMMUNITY, -- we had reason to beam.
Here's another thing, thanks to Nicki: the link to comments by people who read the Portland Press Herald:
http://www.legacy.com/gb2/default.aspx?bookID=6202070956715&page=3
At the urging of many people, I also intend after a respite, to turn my record of Francis' last journey in www.elaineandfrancis.blogspot.com into a book.
I'll end with two special emails I was given permission to share:
A An Email
Dear Elaine,
While you might be a bit too young, Francis would've recalled the Weavers folk group, featuring Pete Seegar, Ronnie Gilbert, Fred Hellerman and Lee Hayes. One of the Weavers' many great numbers was a rousing "Wasn't That a Time!"
"Wasn't That a Time!" could be an apt description of that memorable, absolutely marvelous send-off yesterday for dear Francis.
In the past, I made myself available to lector at the Cathedral for funeral liturgies for someone in her/his 80's, someone the pastor knew had few remaining contemporaries, resulting in only a handful of mourners in attendance -- and none up to doing the readings.
By magnificent contrast, look at that SRO crowd that came to pay their respects to your 82-year-old charmer! It demonstrated, didn't it, Elaine, not just how many people Francis and you have touched through the years. Moreover, it showed their wide generational (and walk-of-life) span.
Neither a blustery January day nor S.H.'s notoriously steep flight of steps was going to discourage anyone from being part of this special occasion.
To know Francis was to love him. And who knew him better or loved him more than you? You again showed that yesterday, as you have through the years -- and particularly through these recent months.
Francis is smiling that sweet smile of his eternally.
******************************************************
B John Hines' poem
(John gave his Tribute from the sanctuary during the funeral.)
Abandon
Give it up
In Mexico in Cuernavaca
After a day of peddling his rainbow cargo of pretty globos—
Children’s balloons—
The tired old vendor lets them go
Gives the remnants up to the winds
Abandons his balloons to the dying breath of the day
Purple yellow blue smiling faces in the sky
Peddler’s failures
A day’s history
Hope and pretty memories fading
The color of this metaphor touches us
Walk everyday into the streets
Offer your balloons for sale
Risk it
Some will reject you
So what
Your balloons are not for everyone
But they are
At the end of the day
You must let them go
With smiles in the sky for everyone
You abandon the day lived
My friend has died
A beautiful death
He gave up his glorious balloons with grace
As he would with a smile with a song
Everyday
He showed us the way
He gave it all up with abandon
Thank you both dear friends for allowing me to share these.
Elaine
and also lotsahelpinghands friends,
The Wake and Funeral
I want to thank all of you from my heart (and Francis' too) for your presence (bodily or spiritually) at his Friday evening wake and Saturday morning funeral on January 9. Lynn told me 200 people signed the guest book on Friday night, and Lori Arsenault who led the music for the funeral told me the church was more than 2/3 full. Another person said -- "not packed, but full." The church seats 500 people.
This outpouring of affection for Francis from family and friends from Maine and out of state created a spirit of community I cannot describe. Three married priests (like Francis) were ushers, Fr. Terry, Francis' nephew who's a Jesuit, was the main celebrant along with five other priests, one a priest/friend for 50 years. Our friends Joe Brannigan and Sue Ewing read respectively the Isaiah and Romans scripture passages "as something alive and active... like a double edged sword." as Heb 4:12 calls it. One of my very favorite quotes is in that Romans passage: "From the beginning until now the entire Creation is groaning with one great act of giving birth." Sue Ewing read it to perfection.
Fr. Richard's homily focusing rightly on our need to be ready and "awake," ended on a warm personal note since he's known Francis and me for 12 years. Bill Gregory's comments briefing participants on how helpful our singing "I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say" was for Francis touched many. And while Mike Sweatt's eulogy was delivered with refreshing honesty and passion, John Hines' two stories in his Tribute to Francis were revealing of Francis and heartwarming.
More than one person told me the whole funeral was "very moving," and the "best funeral" they'd ever been to.
I regret however that the great numbers of people at the three events, wake, funeral and reception, made it difficult for some, especially for two friends who deal with physical handicaps.
The Thank Yous
I want to thank ALL who gave Francis and me invaluable help, big and small, and prayer is not small. You helped us in many many different ways, unique to each, e.g. Kathy's lending Francis her little red bucket for stomach upsets earlier on, and Marion's giving us candles to light. One is burning now as I write to honor Francis' presence with me. I thank you all, and Marion for teaching me this.
You supported us with errands and tasks of all kinds, including meals since early autumn. Special thanks to Meg Wolff whose December meals I am certain extended Francis' life. And the January meals she organized with volunteers are enabling me to set aside rest time even as I see through to their conclusion a host of things to get done. So thank you friends on the "Meal Brigade" as I called it three months ago.
There were "lotsahelpinghands," preparing for every angle of Francis' funeral too. Lynn oversaw the whole thing with me along with a spontaneously formed committee which did both planning, and, after consultation with Fr. Richard, the work of set up and cleanup at church along with friends of theirs and ours. Thank you all whom I didn't name!
The Memorabilia to Share
Rowan's dad & mom Lee Slater and Lynn Kuzma made a CD of Francis' and my singing "Set me as a seal upon your heart" and Francis' favorite Beatitude as well as The Lord's Prayer, -- both in Aramaic. (This "Prelude" was played on the intercom at the funeral.) Computer expert Greg Born then posted this music onto YouTube as accompaniment to photos his wife Jan Born took during the reception after the funeral.
Here's the URL for those photos and chants: (Just copy it in your browser)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF73DQBKi90
*****
Then after two other crews of friends dug out photographs of Francis, Sally Waite and Deb Paley used them to make posters and Matt Power, Editor of Liberty News TV, using different photos, organized them into a DVD slide show shown on Fri & Sat.
Here's the URL for the slide show: http://www.youtube.com/user/LibertyLover#p/u/0/a9iw5X6Zr_o
*****
At the wake and reception the slideshow was viewed alongside a separate yoga video given us by Channel 13. In it Francis was my yoga student for a 3 minute live TV demonstration of one yoga pose a month. Matt had "looped together" many of the 3 minute segments. It's such fun watching Francis, looking so young and strong at 73 in 2000 doing yoga on TV! (This material however, belongs to Channel 13 so I don't feel free, nor is there need, to post it.)
But I am attaching to this email the beautiful liturgy program Lynn did a fantastic job designing and formatting. Jan Born who took many of the photos in the slideshow also took three of the four photos used in the liturgy program. My favorite shows Francis and me beaming as we stood in front of our garage at the end of a joyous permaculture workparty in July, 2007 during which 15 people had put in the pondliner and set up the hoop house for off season gardening. Celebrating with a potluck a job well done, -- but especially, celebrating the JOYS OF COMMUNITY, -- we had reason to beam.
Here's another thing, thanks to Nicki: the link to comments by people who read the Portland Press Herald:
http://www.legacy.com/gb2/default.aspx?bookID=6202070956715&page=3
At the urging of many people, I also intend after a respite, to turn my record of Francis' last journey in www.elaineandfrancis.blogspot.com into a book.
I'll end with two special emails I was given permission to share:
A An Email
Dear Elaine,
While you might be a bit too young, Francis would've recalled the Weavers folk group, featuring Pete Seegar, Ronnie Gilbert, Fred Hellerman and Lee Hayes. One of the Weavers' many great numbers was a rousing "Wasn't That a Time!"
"Wasn't That a Time!" could be an apt description of that memorable, absolutely marvelous send-off yesterday for dear Francis.
In the past, I made myself available to lector at the Cathedral for funeral liturgies for someone in her/his 80's, someone the pastor knew had few remaining contemporaries, resulting in only a handful of mourners in attendance -- and none up to doing the readings.
By magnificent contrast, look at that SRO crowd that came to pay their respects to your 82-year-old charmer! It demonstrated, didn't it, Elaine, not just how many people Francis and you have touched through the years. Moreover, it showed their wide generational (and walk-of-life) span.
Neither a blustery January day nor S.H.'s notoriously steep flight of steps was going to discourage anyone from being part of this special occasion.
To know Francis was to love him. And who knew him better or loved him more than you? You again showed that yesterday, as you have through the years -- and particularly through these recent months.
Francis is smiling that sweet smile of his eternally.
******************************************************
B John Hines' poem
(John gave his Tribute from the sanctuary during the funeral.)
Abandon
Give it up
In Mexico in Cuernavaca
After a day of peddling his rainbow cargo of pretty globos—
Children’s balloons—
The tired old vendor lets them go
Gives the remnants up to the winds
Abandons his balloons to the dying breath of the day
Purple yellow blue smiling faces in the sky
Peddler’s failures
A day’s history
Hope and pretty memories fading
The color of this metaphor touches us
Walk everyday into the streets
Offer your balloons for sale
Risk it
Some will reject you
So what
Your balloons are not for everyone
But they are
At the end of the day
You must let them go
With smiles in the sky for everyone
You abandon the day lived
My friend has died
A beautiful death
He gave up his glorious balloons with grace
As he would with a smile with a song
Everyday
He showed us the way
He gave it all up with abandon
Thank you both dear friends for allowing me to share these.
Elaine
Death is the experience of a lifetime
Dear Family and Friends,
I wanted to share this email with you before the funeral, but I was too engaged interacting with others who executed so well our plans for Francis' funeral.
I'll add my post about our Washing and Oiling Francis' body -- after Halima's note here on that subject:
From: Halima Sussman
Sent: Thursday, December 24, 2009 11:57 AM
To: Elaine & Francis McGillicuddy
Subject: Death is the experience of a lifetime!
Dear Elaine and Francis
We are so touched by the reality of your love in action....................
Elaine - We send you our love and support. In so many parts of the world it is completely natural to stay with, wash, and prepare the body of someone we love who has died. It IS part of a midwivery process. And can be a part of what I call good dying. Good and healing for everyone.
When my parents died, I washed and cared for their bodies at home. We sat with each of them until it felt right and finished. hours. No reason to rush anything. It pleased me greatly that they were only touched by people who loved them, and that I could be present for the slow separation of body and spirit, cooling of body.
It felt like one more gift of life. 'Naked I come from my mothers womb, and naked I return therein.' It was enormously healing for me and my family. I still feel it all these years later. There is a real sense of passage that is integrating to experience and witness.
The veil between birth, life and death is one of the great mysteries. We ALL travel this path. As a good friend puts it, Death is the experience of a lifetime! With another friend, we sang her on her way out of her body. Quite an amazing experience of accompanying. Midwifery is an apt description.
All love and power to you both. If there is anyway we can be of support, (beyond our love and prayers) let us know. love and love and love,
Halima and Abraham
********************************
Elaine speaking now:
I was very encouraged by Halima's note even though it was written after my own clear decision to wash and anoint Francis' body with oil after he died. Francis also was encouraged knowing who the close friends were whom I had called ahead of time to be with me.
If you remember, there was a "nor'easter" that Saturday night of January 2. But the three people who arrived to join our niece, Jane McGillicuddy and me nevertheless were able to get out (Some couldn't) and brave the storm: Dr. Ann Lemire took a taxi, Bridget Franciose a certified Hospice nurse who had taken care of my mother when she died (and Bridget had never forgotten the daily scripture quotes I had sent to her mother as she approached death,) ...well, Bridget simply drove out, as did Barbara DeCoste, a friend of Francis' before I even knew him. So there was one doctor and three nurses with me. (The Hospice Social Worker Annie Blanchard had told me it's a good idea to have someone experienced.)
I was pleased to hear these medical professionals marveling at the excellent condition of Francis' skin and muscles, -- for a man who had been lying in bed almost all of the last four months.
This confirmed for me the importance of massaging and moving the limbs of a bedridden loved one. I told them about the massages Carolyn Ehringhaus had given Francis which so helped him he had surprised both of us by saying "This feels so good!" on a day when he had surfaced only a handful of times to speak. (That was on January 1, really only one day before his death, since he died at 1:25 AM on Sunday January 3.)
When I reported this amazement of our friends to Carolyn she responded: "Thank you for telling me this. I was also very pleased to see that Francis’ skin was responding, as on my first visit I feared bedsores (looked like the process had begun) but by the third I did not see this evidence. (In addition, Francis seemed to be able to use the body work for more internal purposes; that was another aspect of my third visit, feeling these deep internal shifts.)" Thank YOU dear Carolyn!
The date of death reminds me to tell you this story (by way of digression:) Francis had joked about wanting to hang on until his Social Security check arrived on January 3rd. Lynn had observed Francis and Lee bonding over this point. In fact Lynn told me when she shared the news of Francis' death with Lee, he said: "Did he make it?" Yes, indeed we think Francis had deliberately held on until I was assured of that check which would help pay for his funeral.
Of course we also heard him say earlier -- and I love to repeat his response to my question "What's holding you here?" -- "The joy is holding me," he had said. Not just the SS check, but the joy, -- the joy of good food, good music as we reminisced about special moments in our lives since we met in 1968. I believe it also gave him joy to share his journey as death approached.
We put Francis' body in a soft fuzzy thick single bed fitted sheet. This "shroud" was pale green, the color of new life. Before we put the top sheet over the bottom one, with Francis body enclosed in it, someone said his shroud looked like a crysallis, one of the life stages of some insects -- butterflies -- undergoing transformation. Chysallis is a very apt image here because it's Francis who chose Michael Dwinell's quote for his memorial bookmark. I'm attaching it as sent to the printer. Those attending the funeral got a final copy with photo, but I have extras at home for any who would like a bookmark.
While awaiting the funeral home personnel who had to shovel a path to our house, we four talked long time into the night, before and after they arrived.
I heartily agree with Halima that our ritual of reverently washing and anointing Francis' body was as healing for us who survive as it was reassuring for Francis who knew ahead of time it was loved ones who reverently handed over his body for cremation, not strangers.
Elaine
I wanted to share this email with you before the funeral, but I was too engaged interacting with others who executed so well our plans for Francis' funeral.
I'll add my post about our Washing and Oiling Francis' body -- after Halima's note here on that subject:
From: Halima Sussman
Sent: Thursday, December 24, 2009 11:57 AM
To: Elaine & Francis McGillicuddy
Subject: Death is the experience of a lifetime!
Dear Elaine and Francis
We are so touched by the reality of your love in action....................
Elaine - We send you our love and support. In so many parts of the world it is completely natural to stay with, wash, and prepare the body of someone we love who has died. It IS part of a midwivery process. And can be a part of what I call good dying. Good and healing for everyone.
When my parents died, I washed and cared for their bodies at home. We sat with each of them until it felt right and finished. hours. No reason to rush anything. It pleased me greatly that they were only touched by people who loved them, and that I could be present for the slow separation of body and spirit, cooling of body.
It felt like one more gift of life. 'Naked I come from my mothers womb, and naked I return therein.' It was enormously healing for me and my family. I still feel it all these years later. There is a real sense of passage that is integrating to experience and witness.
The veil between birth, life and death is one of the great mysteries. We ALL travel this path. As a good friend puts it, Death is the experience of a lifetime! With another friend, we sang her on her way out of her body. Quite an amazing experience of accompanying. Midwifery is an apt description.
All love and power to you both. If there is anyway we can be of support, (beyond our love and prayers) let us know. love and love and love,
Halima and Abraham
********************************
Elaine speaking now:
I was very encouraged by Halima's note even though it was written after my own clear decision to wash and anoint Francis' body with oil after he died. Francis also was encouraged knowing who the close friends were whom I had called ahead of time to be with me.
If you remember, there was a "nor'easter" that Saturday night of January 2. But the three people who arrived to join our niece, Jane McGillicuddy and me nevertheless were able to get out (Some couldn't) and brave the storm: Dr. Ann Lemire took a taxi, Bridget Franciose a certified Hospice nurse who had taken care of my mother when she died (and Bridget had never forgotten the daily scripture quotes I had sent to her mother as she approached death,) ...well, Bridget simply drove out, as did Barbara DeCoste, a friend of Francis' before I even knew him. So there was one doctor and three nurses with me. (The Hospice Social Worker Annie Blanchard had told me it's a good idea to have someone experienced.)
I was pleased to hear these medical professionals marveling at the excellent condition of Francis' skin and muscles, -- for a man who had been lying in bed almost all of the last four months.
This confirmed for me the importance of massaging and moving the limbs of a bedridden loved one. I told them about the massages Carolyn Ehringhaus had given Francis which so helped him he had surprised both of us by saying "This feels so good!" on a day when he had surfaced only a handful of times to speak. (That was on January 1, really only one day before his death, since he died at 1:25 AM on Sunday January 3.)
When I reported this amazement of our friends to Carolyn she responded: "Thank you for telling me this. I was also very pleased to see that Francis’ skin was responding, as on my first visit I feared bedsores (looked like the process had begun) but by the third I did not see this evidence. (In addition, Francis seemed to be able to use the body work for more internal purposes; that was another aspect of my third visit, feeling these deep internal shifts.)" Thank YOU dear Carolyn!
The date of death reminds me to tell you this story (by way of digression:) Francis had joked about wanting to hang on until his Social Security check arrived on January 3rd. Lynn had observed Francis and Lee bonding over this point. In fact Lynn told me when she shared the news of Francis' death with Lee, he said: "Did he make it?" Yes, indeed we think Francis had deliberately held on until I was assured of that check which would help pay for his funeral.
Of course we also heard him say earlier -- and I love to repeat his response to my question "What's holding you here?" -- "The joy is holding me," he had said. Not just the SS check, but the joy, -- the joy of good food, good music as we reminisced about special moments in our lives since we met in 1968. I believe it also gave him joy to share his journey as death approached.
We put Francis' body in a soft fuzzy thick single bed fitted sheet. This "shroud" was pale green, the color of new life. Before we put the top sheet over the bottom one, with Francis body enclosed in it, someone said his shroud looked like a crysallis, one of the life stages of some insects -- butterflies -- undergoing transformation. Chysallis is a very apt image here because it's Francis who chose Michael Dwinell's quote for his memorial bookmark. I'm attaching it as sent to the printer. Those attending the funeral got a final copy with photo, but I have extras at home for any who would like a bookmark.
While awaiting the funeral home personnel who had to shovel a path to our house, we four talked long time into the night, before and after they arrived.
I heartily agree with Halima that our ritual of reverently washing and anointing Francis' body was as healing for us who survive as it was reassuring for Francis who knew ahead of time it was loved ones who reverently handed over his body for cremation, not strangers.
Elaine
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