January 6, the calendar date for the feast of the Epiphany,
was different for our family this year. It was the date on which our brother-in-law completed his earth-journey
and moved into the fullness of light.
I pondered the ways in
which I came to know him better, and recognized a delightful pattern as the
fullness of who he was emerged. There
was always the hallmark of unwavering loyalty and generous support for those he
knew and loved. There was the ready,
“Sure I can do that,” whenever a helping hand was needed. That’s why his
involvement in the Knights of Columbus and support of Catholic education always
was at the top of his activities list. He
even created a cribbage culture by monthly teaching school children the game
and bringing his cribbage-elders with him as mentors.
Layers of tenderness emerged with the birth of his son and the
arrival of a granddaughter and grandson. He kept discovering new ways to
delight and encourage them. And as his days of hospice went on, every person
that came to see him was greeted with a gently spoken “thank you” even when he
had no strength left to say another word.
The words of Rainer Marie Rilke’s poem [Sonnets to Orpheus, Part two, XII] felt like
it was written to describe the tender human he became. “Everything shines as it disappears.” And now
as my sister goes forward, gratefully remembering all this transformation and
the end of his cancer pain, she likely can relate to the words with which the
sonnet ends, “Every happiness is the child of a separation it did not think it
could survive.”
Mary
Rachel Kuebelbeck, OSB
Amen! God is indeed love.
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