Francis
today i learned that we've lost Francis. he was a dear friend of my father's and the only holy man i will ever trust.
Francis and my father met because they were both EMTs who volunteered for our local First Aid Squad. they became close and i regularly heard stories of their times together. Francis also happened to be a Franciscan friar and eventually his spiritual work took him back to upstate New York where he'd grown up. even so, he and Dad remained in contact and Francis would visit when he was in town.
when Dad got sick, a lot of things changed. one of the most striking for me was watching my "I'm as close to being an atheist as you can be without actually being one" father suddenly turn to the divine for solace. my usually "Easter and Christmas, and only because Mom makes us" family suddenly began attending mass on days i hadn't actually known churches were open. Dad started wearing medals of various stripes. and Francis came to visit more often. in addition to training as a friar he was also trained in social work, and he became an unofficial therapist for my parents. when it became clear that Dad was going to die, it was Francis who counseled each of them. it's the only therapy in which i've ever seen either parent be willing to take part.
when Dad died, it was decided that Francis would perform his funeral mass, including his eulogy. he summoned many of Dad's closest friends to our living room and, over beers, listened to them share stories about him. he listened intently, encouraged the conversation and took careful notes. and he turned that conversation of friends into a warm, loving and just-plain-beautiful eulogy that spoke volumes to the relationship that he and the others had shared with Dad. he even tried to learn to growl like Bob Segar, to properly reproduce the song i'd asked him to play for me. i could not have imagined finding comfort in any of that experience, yet he brought some to me.
i received an email from Dad's best friend this morning, letting me know that Francis had died unexpectedly. and even though i have not talked to this man in years, or ever established much in the way of my own relationship with him, i was absolutely crushed. in part, because the world needs him. in part, because it reminded me of losing Dad all over again. i don't believe in life after death, but i can't shake the image of Dad and Francis, sitting on a cloud somewhere, chatting over beers.
take care, Father Gunn. and thanks so much.
Francis and my father met because they were both EMTs who volunteered for our local First Aid Squad. they became close and i regularly heard stories of their times together. Francis also happened to be a Franciscan friar and eventually his spiritual work took him back to upstate New York where he'd grown up. even so, he and Dad remained in contact and Francis would visit when he was in town.
when Dad got sick, a lot of things changed. one of the most striking for me was watching my "I'm as close to being an atheist as you can be without actually being one" father suddenly turn to the divine for solace. my usually "Easter and Christmas, and only because Mom makes us" family suddenly began attending mass on days i hadn't actually known churches were open. Dad started wearing medals of various stripes. and Francis came to visit more often. in addition to training as a friar he was also trained in social work, and he became an unofficial therapist for my parents. when it became clear that Dad was going to die, it was Francis who counseled each of them. it's the only therapy in which i've ever seen either parent be willing to take part.
when Dad died, it was decided that Francis would perform his funeral mass, including his eulogy. he summoned many of Dad's closest friends to our living room and, over beers, listened to them share stories about him. he listened intently, encouraged the conversation and took careful notes. and he turned that conversation of friends into a warm, loving and just-plain-beautiful eulogy that spoke volumes to the relationship that he and the others had shared with Dad. he even tried to learn to growl like Bob Segar, to properly reproduce the song i'd asked him to play for me. i could not have imagined finding comfort in any of that experience, yet he brought some to me.
i received an email from Dad's best friend this morning, letting me know that Francis had died unexpectedly. and even though i have not talked to this man in years, or ever established much in the way of my own relationship with him, i was absolutely crushed. in part, because the world needs him. in part, because it reminded me of losing Dad all over again. i don't believe in life after death, but i can't shake the image of Dad and Francis, sitting on a cloud somewhere, chatting over beers.
take care, Father Gunn. and thanks so much.
posted by Dani at 8:01 PM
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