I went to a funeral last week in Philadelphia. Sr. Mary had battled cancer for 18 years – throughout the entire time I knew her. We met while studying for our doctorate at La Salle and of all the people I met, she was the one who had been the most compassionate, the most supportive, the most kind, and the most generous with her time and words.
She was a friend you could email or text and, even though she was carrying an immense burden herself, her words would lift your spirits, quicken your step, and make you smile.
When Aunt Barbara lived in Philly, she happened to meet Mary one night in the parking lot of the university. They shared Little Flower in common, Mary having taught there and Barbara having attended high school there. Soon, they were singing the school song. That happened every year I was there and when I defended my dissertation, Mary had a party for us and Barbara attended. Turns out Mary had a cousin who was Barbara’s pastor, so Barbara wrote letters to Mary, sent some money to her religious order, and kept in touch until she moved to Connecticut. To this day, Barbara asks about Mary and the priest-cousin-pastor.
It was no wonder Mary’s funeral was packed. Students she had taught, cousins from far and wide, women religious in her Franciscan community – all gathered to send her off, plead for the angels to bring her to paradise, and to celebrate her faith.
After we left Mary at her grave, we made our way back to the cafeteria for the luncheon. A young priest sat with us and we started chatting. Soon another cousin of Mary’s sat down and I heard her mention the parish of Christ the King, so I leaned over and asked, “Which Christ the King?” (Given our feast day yesterday, it seems a odd phrasing of the question.)
“In Haddonfield (NJ), do you know it?”
“I was baptized there and my godparents were active there for years – and my godmother still is.”
“Who?”
I tell her the name and she nearly comes over the table.
“I KNOW HER….. she’s my mother’s BEST FRIEND.”
Naturally, I went in search of the mom and made the connection. Turns out the mom is Mary’s first cousin and the “new” best friend of my godmother.
When I explained why she was the “new” best friend – the previous one having been my mother who died in December 2021 – the mom couldn’t believe it.
We chatted briefly about family, Mary, my connection to the lot, and mostly about my godmother, with whom she meets with every month for a prayer group from the parish.
What a small world.
One connection led to another and I spent nearly an hour catching up the following day with said godmother. It was like talking to my own mother when she was less forgetful, less ill, and less aged by the years and maladies she bore. In short, it was like going home to place I had forgotten I missed so much.
So Mary continues to take care of me. She continues to shower me with blessings even if her earthly battle is over. What a gift.
We will need these connections in the coming weeks as Aunt Barbara begins the next chapter, having had her own cancer diagnoses confirmed last week. We will need the support of those we love. We will need reminders of conversations and photos and stories from a happier time, and we will need the intercession of Sr. Mary, my new patron of chance encounters.
Rest in peace, my friend. As we sit at the table this week, surrounded by those we love, know that I will give thanks for your life, your presence, and your selfless example of joy.
Happy Thanksgiving.