A Mass of Remembrance

My church, St. Joseph's, held a mass of remembrance today for all the loved ones of the church family who passed away in the past year.  John Fazzolari, Fuzzy, Papa, Dad was called out.  I sat in the pew, head bowed and waited for them to call his name.  They had a list of twenty or so people and were saying them alphabetically and then lighting a candle for each name called.

"John Fazzolari"

My head was bowed but the choking sob that came from my throat, the tears that fell from my eyes and the watery nose, weren't masked in any way.  A couple people turned to look at me but I just sat and cried, watching as a candle was lit for him.  My dad.

After the names were read and the candles were lit, the lector said, "May they rest in peace, free from sorrow and heartache, free from physical pain and emotional anxiety." 

At the end of the Mass, before the closing song, the priest walked over to the table where the candles were lit and said, "Their life on earth has ended but they live on in our love because love never ends."

I don't know what I'm trying to say with this blogpost.  I'm not trying to send a message, or give hope or exclaim my faith.  I'm not trying to rehash his death.  Hell, if I could forget about it and move on, hunkydory, then believe me, I would.

I guess I just needed to share it with someone.  I sat at church, some familiar faces, but mostly with strangers and I wept openly, painfully, and had no one to share that grief with besides Paige and Tony who have such faith in God and such incredible resiliency that it's just not the same. We're supposed to share our grief - and our joys - with people. 

Life is incredibly hard sometimes.  Loving is easy, but life is hard.  My newest pray is for all those who are living here on earth, sharing the joys and triumphs, the grief and failures:  May they live in peace, full of love - the transcendant love that will accompany them in death and live on, live on...

... I'm tired now.