And to dust we shall return

A co-worker was killed in a car accident one week ago tonight. She was unmarried and was a wonderful, happy, fun-loving person. (Coincidence? I think not).

Services were tonight: the only "funeral" being her wake followed by a prayer service.

We all crowded into a long, narrow room. For some reason the only chairs were along each of the long walls, facing to the center of the room, so almost everybody simply stood in the center of the room, those in the back seeing only the people standing in front of them. Her family, a sister, brother, elderly mother, and a niece, sat at the front of the room in that odd line of chairs against the wall.

Margaret in her coffin was alone in the room behind that, apparently having to eavesdrop on her own funeral.

The service begins:

"Good evening. I am Father.....

.......

.......

.....Michael......

..............

......[last name].

Margaret must have not belonged to a church and the family, from out of town, apparently requested a priest and were assigned Father Michael S-.

Father Michael explained that he DID know his own name, but that he had a......

..................

.......speech........

.......impediment......

and that it was going to be a long night.

He said that he felt sorry for Margaret's family, being from a different state and knowing no one here, and being assigned this priest with a speech impediment. He'd apologized to them and Margaret's sister told him it was all right, that Margaret had a sense of humor and would have laughed about it.

I was appalled that this lovely woman's funeral was going to be spoken by this severely impeded priest who never even knew her and tears sprang to my eyes. It was crushing.

"If God be for us, who can be....

.......................................

.......................................

......................................

against us."

It was like he was waiting for us to complete his sentences.

"He who believes in.......in.......... ...............

................

ME. ME! Say ME, for the love of God!

"And God so loved his only begotten.......

...........

...........

And then this fountain of joy sprang up inside me as I could see Margaret laughing, saying "SON." SON. Say "SON" right NOW. Say it. SAY. IT.

It was wonderful and humorous. To his credit, Father Michael had done his job well with the family - he had learned a lot about Margaret, even correctly remembering the names of all her beloved dogs (she was involved with rescue with the humane society). Once he started reciting the liturgy, his words came more smoothly and it was a nice prayer service. I thought that for humor value alone, if I WAS going to have a wake, I'd pick this guy.

Sileo in pacis, Margaret.

You are missed.