Certainly there’s no snow in Alabama ‘tall. But my brain on All Souls’ Day remembers the Dead for whom a Rosary will be said and all the offices today.
My Grandparents, Bessie and Ken, who raised me for the first 6 years of my life, and at whose passing I do, sometimes, feel like an orphan, even though my own parents are alive.
My brother, Jimmy, who was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1983. He’d have passed 50 last year and I do wonder what it would have been like to have had a brother all this time.
My best friend, Brian, who was killed in the accident as well, and his sister, Michelle, who was murdered the year before – the first death most any of us kids had experienced.
Mills, Bernie, Timmy, William, Geoff, and Thomas, who died of AIDS-related complications, as we used to say. I got out of the plague remarkably lightly, but Mills’ and Timmy’s passings were very hard. And also a wakeup call that probably saved my life.
Edward, Joel, Linda, Paul and Edmund. Episcopal clergy (along with Mills and Bernie above) who had a huge effect on the church as well as on persons around them.
Archpriest Victor and Mat. Barbara, whose strong, earthly love wrapped me up and held me godwards.
All my other family, known and unknown.
Requiem Aeternam. May their memories be eternal.
“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” – James Joyce, The Dead, in Dubliners