Stop Praying. Do Something.

My cousin, a nun, drove in from Erie for my dad’s service. She was one of the first guests and she came right up to me, took both my hands, and said “Just want to let you know I’m praying for your dad.” I looked at her blankly. My mom’s words from years ago, when people were praying for peace, came back loud and clear. “I wish they would stop praying and just do something.” I love my cousin and know she meant well.

We were picking songs for the celebration and my sister, Amy, suggested we include Mel Torme’s “Brooklyn Bridge.” My father loved the song and had a lifelong fascination with the bridge. We started the service with it. Qued it up just before the final guests were seated and only then did it strike me as the perfect allegory for passage.

My uncle was next with a poignant Thomas Merton quote. I had scoured my dad’s computer for quotes that he liked or ones he had used in past Christmas cards. We included a couple of G.K. Chesterton beautys in the program and arranged for others to be read aloud.

My father left the church back in the sixties and by chance a priest, who had a reputaion for pushing the church to the left in that same period, lives in the same apartment building as my mom and dad. His Christmas tree caught on fire last year and he almost burnt the place down. My parents never met him but my dad was aware of his reputation. I asked my dad at the end of his life if he was interested in seeing Father Donnelly and he said he was so I gave him a call. I tried to get him up to speed on my dad’s small “c” Catholic thing and I think their Hospice visit went well.

When my dad passed I asked Father Donnelly if he would do the homily at the service and of course he agreed. I told my sister Amy I was uncertain as to where he would go with the thing and she suggested I tell him that nature was my father’s religion, and her’s too for that matter. I called and tried to describe what it was like to to walk in the woods with my father. His sense of wonder. And I sort of broke down trying to relay it.

Father Donnelly found a perfect theme. Being observant and fully present and being creative, especially, is enough. The subtext being you don’t have to spout scripture or swallow dogma. Living a meaningful life is enough for god.

People shared thoughts and stories about Leo. I was so proud of my six siblings. Each one spoke eloquently, a fitting tribute from their own experience and from the heart. I did have a favorite summation though and that was Peggi’s.

About six months ago my father heard someone sing Danny Boy at one of his Kodak luncheons. He loved it and said the guy who sang it told him he knew Peggi and me. I figured it was Ben and asked my father if he would like me to ask him to sing that song at his funeral. My father said, “That would be nice.” Bob Mahoney took this picture of Ben Mac An Tuile singing Danny Boy” at the close of the ceremony. Peggi and I are sitting on the altar to the left of the lectern. It was a perfect send off.

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