The Gift of Simply Listening

People frequently say to me that it must be difficult to preside at a funeral when you didn’t know the person who died. I typically respond that leading funerals are difficult when you don’t know the person at all and when you know the person very well. This past Monday I had a funeral that met the criteria of the former. It was for a woman named Mary.

I had known Mary for over thirty years. I met her, her husband Gordy, and their three children when I was first ordained a priest and serving as the associate pastor at our Cathedral. Mary and her family sat to the right of the altar. Her kids were frequently altar servers for Mass. 

I developed a wonderful friendship with Mary, Gordy, and the kids. When I was in Superior, if I wasn’t able to visit my parents for a holiday, I spent it at their home. When my parents came to visit me, we were all guests at their home for at least one meal. Gordy taught me how to fish steelhead trout on the Brule River in northern Wisconsin and walleyes on the St. Louis River. I went on camping trips with their family. After the death of my mother, they insisted my dad come along as well. A group of guys that included Gordy, my dad and brother, a few others, and I annually went ice fishing in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. BRRRRRR! 

Mary worked at Cathedral Catholic School when I was assigned in Superior and – among other things – I taught at the school. Their oldest was in one of my classes. I ate many meals prepared by Mary. Later, when I had moved away from Superior, I visited whenever I returned to Superior. By that time they had moved to a lake home outside of town, and swimming in the lake was a favorite adventure for us. They also visited me when I moved to Rhinelander to become a pastor there.

A few years ago, Mary and Gordy moved to New Richmond, and their family also grew. I presided at two of their children’s weddings and baptized some of their grandchildren. They started coming to Saint Patrick Parish because of our friendship. They also have a daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren in our parish. Their granddaughters attend our school and so Mary became a volunteer by reading to her granddaughters’ classes. I still enjoyed an occasional dinner at their home. 

Mary died a few months ago. Her death was tragic. Likely a day I will never forget. The time I have spent with her children trying to make sense of the situation is as much therapeutic for me as it is for them. My friend Gordy is in jail accused of causing his wife’s death. Now all we can do is talk. Most of the time I don’t know what to say, so I just listen. But that goes for his kids as well. Most of the time I just listen. 

I have to admit, I am not sure why I chose to share this story with you. It is a story about a tragedy. It is sad, but mostly it is confusing. I have played the blame game with myself. I know I shouldn’t but some days can’t help it. Had I done something different for them. Had I called Gordy to go fishing. Had I listened more or spoken more, things might have turned out differently and I wouldn’t have had to lead a funeral Mass this past week for Mary. The kids would still have their parents and grandkids their Nana and Papa. 

I guess I chose to share this story with you because I knew you would listen. I try to listen to you when you are hurting. Thank you for listening to me this week. As last Sunday’s Psalm response stated, “Lord, come to my aid.” I know He does and will. Most of the time He just listens too. Most of the time that is all we need. Just someone to listen.