This Week

October 14, 2014
Day 167

This is a sad week for Andy and me, so I'm going to try my best not to overwhelm you with depressing thoughts.  I do want to say though, when I'm asked if I'm doing okay, I answer, "Yes, because my faith is strong."  And I'll follow that up with, "Others aren't doing so well."  I don't always use those words, because for some people, it can come across the wrong way, and it's neither my purpose nor intent to upset people. 

Sunday night was the first wake for my Aunt Nancy, and Monday evening I went back again too.  Both were held in her beautiful home not far from me, and it was so nice being able to kneel before her casket and whisper to her, but then minutes later have a cup of tea and a slice of homemade Irish soda bread in my hands just 40 feet away.  This morning, Tuesday, was her funeral, and it brought with it several beautiful moments I'm sure I'll be writing about some other day.

Tomorrow, there are no wakes and funerals to go to, just a full workday for me, followed by time with Andy's family in the evening.  Tomorrow will also be the 10th anniversary of my mother's death day, which was my saddest day ever.  Even with great faith comes great sorrow.  It's not the sorrow of a permanent loss, but is the particular sorrow felt when you know the source of so much unconditional love in your life will not be there to hug and kiss you, and tell you things will be okay.  This is the feeling Nancy and Fai's children and grandchildren, as well as Fai's wife, are feeling right now.

On Thursday, we will have the wake periods for Andy's Uncle Fai.  After suffering for the past two months in the ICU, his release must have felt great to him, but was a profound loss for his wife and sons.  Fai was just 67 years old, far too young to leave his beautiful life and family behind. 

Friday will be Fai's funeral mass, and I imagine we'll spend a lot of time with Andy's family this whole week and the upcoming weekend.

It's a sad week for all of us, strong faith or not, as two of our loved ones have now left us to the mysterious great beyond.  We cry for them, but we really cry to honor them with our grief.  Our tears and our sadness are a testament to how much they meant to us, and how much we will miss them. 

"In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing." -Robert Green Ingersoll