There's not Always a Tomorrow

This week I wrote out and gave three Mass cards.  In my Catholic faith, it's customary though not required to give a Mass card offering Masses for deceased fellow Catholics. Three. In one week. One for a lovely 95 year old woman who I knew all my life. She was like a second mother right next door.  Another card for the elderly mother of a dear friend.  Lastly, my husband's cousin; a 54 year old man with a wonderful wife, four beautiful boys, and a precious grandson.  I think this one was the hardest.  Yes, people die young all the time and people die suddenly more often than we like, but this was a double whammy.  Tim went in for a ridiculously routine outpatient procedure that should have lasted one hour maximum; so routine that he took a medical transport there so his wife wouldn't have to miss work.  Easy. Thursday before the Sunday his grandson was to be christened he boarded a bus, put his faith in his doctors, and never again regained conciousness.  Just like that, this husband, dad, granddad, brother, uncle, cousin, and friend was gone from this Earth and all the people that loved him.  Blink.  

I attended his wake the other night.  I was lucky enough to get there slightly before it actually started at 7pm.  I say lucky because by 7:30, there were so many people it was like Times Square on New Year's Eve.  The line of visitors was down the hall, out the door, and down the block.  I never saw anything like it.  It was overwhelming to me that this man who I'd known for 30 years as a mellow, funny guy with a wild past, who I loved and whose company I enjoyed, touched hundreds and hundreds of lives so much that they took the time to stand on line for over an hour just to pay respects to him and to his family.  It felt like the wake of a celebrity and the more I listened to the hushed conversations I realized it actually was the wake of a celebrity...a rockstar.  I had no idea how this man's life impacted so many others' lives.  It was remarkable!  He was so unassuming and so "regular".  He was a kind, generous, gregarious, gentle soul wrapped up in a leather exterior; perfect. If you go by his life, God definitely takes the good early because He misses them by His side. God's speed, lovely man!

In all the sadness that was his wake and funeral, Timmy's passing brought together family and friends and coworkers and union brothers (and sisters).  I watched men bear-hug and slap each other on the back and shake their heads in utter disbelief as to why they were brought together.  As did I.

On top of the sadness of his passing, Timmy's death brought family together that hadn't been together since the last death.  Isn't that awful?  People who I love to talk to and love to see and hear about their accomplishments and those of their children I see only in the awfulness of death.  Now THAT is sad.  Why does this happen more often than not?

We are too much consumed by our daily lives.  We are so busy...so much busier than our parents were...that we miss so much.  Of course our children take priority but isn't getting to know their family, extended and immediate, just as important as football or soccer or baseball or swimming?  It would be difficult in my family, and my husband's, to see family every day or weekend or month; we're just too big!  But could there be a happy medium?  Could we make a point to make time for people we love to see and talk to but rarely do?  Yup. I really think we can...and should.

So let's start small.  Let's start with phone calls.  Cawl me...we'll tawk and in the meantime, say a prayer for those gone too soon...it's always too soon...and to the loved ones left behind.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

This week I wrote out and gave three Mass cards.  In my Catholic faith, it's customary though not required to give a Mass card offering Masses for deceased fellow Catholics. Three. In one week. One for a lovely 95 year old woman who I knew all my life. She was like a second mother right next door.  Another card for the elderly mother of a dear friend.  Lastly, my husband's cousin; a 54 year old man with a wonderful wife, four beautiful boys, and a precious grandson.  I think this one was the hardest.  Yes, people die young all the time and people die suddenly more often than we like, but this was a double whammy.  Tim went in for a ridiculously routine outpatient procedure that should have lasted one hour maximum; so routine that he took a medical transport there so his wife wouldn't have to miss work.  Easy. Thursday before the Sunday his grandson was to be christened he boarded a bus, put his faith in his doctors, and never again regained conciousness.  Just like that, this husband, dad, granddad, brother, uncle, cousin, and friend was gone from this Earth and all the people that loved him.  Blink.  

I attended his wake the other night.  I was lucky enough to get there slightly before it actually started at 7pm.  I say lucky because by 7:30, there were so many people it was like Times Square on New Year's Eve.  The line of visitors was down the hall, out the door, and down the block.  I never saw anything like it.  It was overwhelming to me that this man who I'd known for 30 years as a mellow, funny guy with a wild past, who I loved and whose company I enjoyed, touched hundreds and hundreds of lives so much that they took the time to stand on line for over an hour just to pay respects to him and to his family.  It felt like the wake of a celebrity and the more I listened to the hushed conversations I realized it actually was the wake of a celebrity...a rockstar.  I had no idea how this man's life impacted so many others' lives.  It was remarkable!  He was so unassuming and so "regular".  He was a kind, generous, gregarious, gentle soul wrapped up in a leather exterior; perfect. If you go by his life, God definitely takes the good early because He misses them by His side. God's speed, lovely man!

In all the sadness that was his wake and funeral, Timmy's passing brought together family and friends and coworkers and union brothers (and sisters).  I watched men bear-hug and slap each other on the back and shake their heads in utter disbelief as to why they were brought together.  As did I.

On top of the sadness of his passing, Timmy's death brought family together that hadn't been together since the last death.  Isn't that awful?  People who I love to talk to and love to see and hear about their accomplishments and those of their children I see only in the awfulness of death.  Now THAT is sad.  Why does this happen more often than not?

We are too much consumed by our daily lives.  We are so busy...so much busier than our parents were...that we miss so much.  Of course our children take priority but isn't getting to know their family, extended and immediate, just as important as football or soccer or baseball or swimming?  It would be difficult in my family, and my husband's, to see family every day or weekend or month; we're just too big!  But could there be a happy medium?  Could we make a point to make time for people we love to see and talk to but rarely do?  Yup. I really think we can...and should.

So let's start small.  Let's start with phone calls.  Cawl me...we'll tawk and in the meantime, say a prayer for those gone too soon...it's always too soon...and to the loved ones left behind.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Blessed be the Mother

I wrote this for my church bulletin in commemoration of  Mother's Day 2016.  Keep in mind it was for the church bulletin when reading the "religious references".  Happy Mother's Day to all those beautiful mothers out there! :)

The noun mother, by definition, is “a woman in relation to a child or children to whom she has given birth”.  Everyone has or had a mother to whom they were borne.  It is impossible to enter this world without one.  It’s impossible to even have a heartbeat without one…or a heart for that matter!  And to that end, biologically speaking, virtually every woman can be a mother. That is to say, she is anatomically able to reproduce and give birth.  The verb mother, by definition, is “to bring up a child with care and affection”.  To make the conscious decision to dedicate one’s life to helping and teaching a helpless creature to become the best they can be in life.  It is quite possible to be a mother who does not mother, e.g. guppies.  Guppy mothers eat their babies; not the most nurturing environment!  

Possible too, is mothering without giving birth to a child.  How many of us know a woman or women who have loved us and nurtured us as though we were their own child?  Women who have never had the experience of childbirth yet love a child or children in their care as though they felt every contraction of labor.  The blessed women who adopt to ensure a good life for that child filled with love and affection.  Is that child flesh of their flesh? No, but he is heart of her heart and his love for her, because of her mothering, is unconditional.

Since becoming a mother I see so clearly now that mothering is not always easy and rewarding.  Sometimes it can be hard and disappointing. My usual self-confident nature is questioned and tested almost daily; as is my patience and compassion. I share this with my mother and she nods empathetically because it’s all too familiar to her. She went through it all (seven times) and understands my frustration.  She gently reminds me of their attributes and tells me of the joy and pride I’ll feel when someday too soon I will watch my children succeed as adults who are ready to take on the world. In only the way a mother can, she picks me up, brushes me off, and sends me back in.

So on this celebration of Mother’s Day, we celebrate the woman who gave birth to you or took you from a lesser life and with the Grace of God, spent or will continue to spend the rest of her life until her dying day, caring, nurturing, worrying, supporting, and loving you.  The woman who taught us how to speak, how to hold a fork, how to take our first steps, and how to pick ourselves up when we fell.  The woman who gave us pep talks to lift us up and whose sometimes brutal honesty kept us grounded.  We celebrate this woman who bought us to church and taught us about Christ and Adam and Eve and the Holy Spirit; about Noah and Job and Sts. Peter and Paul.  This woman who lovingly molded us into the person we are today.  She wasn’t perfect.  She made mistakes and not-so-great decisions.  She yelled and maybe even, Heaven forbid, spanked.  She punished, grounded, muttered under her breath about your behavior.  Sometimes her words stung.  Sometimes she realized this and swallowed her pride to apologize to you because she sees she’s hurt you and your pain is her pain.

Those of us blessed with a mother still gracing this Earth must cherish every moment with her.  Perhaps not every moment will be joyous and fun; perhaps even upsetting and frustrating but should be cherished just the same.  She’ll be gone someday, and if her prayers are answered, long before you follow and the opportunity to be with her gone along with her.  Those who’ve lost her already must remember only the wonder that she was.  Forget the cross words said in anger or the swat given in frustration.  Remember that like our Blessed Mother Mary, the woman who raised you accepted that task not as a burden, but as a gift from God. 

Deacon Ron ends every liturgy with “Go in peace glorifying God with your life.”  This Mother’s Day, glorify God with your love for the woman hand-picked by Him to be your mother.

Happy Mother’s Day, 2016 to all of the mothers within our Sts. Francis and Clare family and may the Lord bless you and keep you.      

 ~ Eileen Cassidy Bishop