Song of Farewell

This week Dave and I drove back to Virginia Beach to bid a loving farewell to a dear friend. We hadn’t seen him in a few years but knew his health was fragile so his passing wasn’t as much as a surprise as a smack of reality.

Initially, John and Marlene Skiptunas were the snazzy-dressed couple who sat behind us at the 11:15 Mass at St. Mark’s.  Marlene especially seemed to delight in the antics our children, Maggie and Andy as they wiggled and wriggled through the hour-long service each week.  She would chuckle whenever she heard Andy ask, “How many more songs before we got to go home?”   (And he asked every week!)

Although we didn’t know each other, both Marlene and John always offered warm greetings at the “Sign of Peace,” and offer blessings for our beautiful family.  To me, she was the epitome of warmth and hospitality.

So, it wasn’t surprising that, a few years later, after I’d become a part of our newly formed RCIA Team (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) and was asked to find a buddy to help with my role as Hospitality coordinator, hers was the first name that popped into my head.  I called her, she answered and even after Dave received orders and we left the area for several years, Marlene stayed on, growing into a very important part of the team.

Over the years, Marlene has earned the reputation of being a crier.  Tears come easily for her not because she is easily upset, but because she cares so deeply for those around her.  She never offers friendship halfway, she is always fully invested.  Several years ago a friend made her at straw hat complete with tissue flowers and a slit at the top to access a small pack of tissues she’d attached inside so she’d always have one ready when needed!

When we moved back to the beach in 1998, Marlene and John occupied the seats in the front row, and for more than ten years, I usually sat behind them.  That was how I began to get to know John better.

Most Sundays before Mass, Marlene would be busy doing “stuff” and John would take his seat, sometimes with her handbag hanging from his arm.  After he sat down, he’d usually turn around to me and share some quippy tidbit or joke.  He was very funny and had a quick dry wit that I especially appreciated.  But most of all, what I noticed about them was how deeply  their love for each other showed in the comfortable way they sat together and the way their eyes would twinkle when they met.

Since moving away, my buddy, Deacon Mike Johnson has been kind enough to keep me in the email loop when there is important news to share about one of the parishioners.  St. Mark’s is a fairly good-sized parish, so when a note lands in my box concerning the passing of someone, many times I don’t know who they are.  That changed on Tuesday when I received the news about John.

Without hesitation, I forwarded the email to Dave with a note asking if we could attend the funeral and then texted my friend Patricia to see if she could put us up for the night.  There was no question if we would go, only how soon and for how long.

Thursday night’s celebration of John’s life was a good example of why Dave and I both have such warm spots in our hearts for St. Mark’s.  It is like going home to this very special  place where we see the familiar faces of folks who have played important roles in our lives over the past thirty some years.  It is a place where we receive plentiful hugs and kisses and genuine affection.   It is the community of believers where Dave was welcomed into the church, where we were supported after the loss of a child as well as years later as we anticipated the birth of one that was unexpected.  It is where we cut our teeth on ministry and were nurtured into the adult Catholics we are today. It is also the place where we learned the importance of celebrating the passing of a life  while showing love and support for those left behind.

Last night I found myself sitting in my old seat alongside my longtime Sunday companions, AJ and Mark.  As I surveyed the faces in the church around me, I noticed that almost everyone else I knew was sitting in “their” seat as well.  It’s funny what creatures of habit we are and only fitting that at a funeral we should seek out the safe harbor of our regular spot.  My regular spot sat behind the empty chairs where John and Marlene sat for so many years.

The Mass itself was a true celebration.The choir was jam-packed with current members as well as folks like Dave who had sung with them before and felt the desire to join in.  Marlene and her daughter Paige did the readings; Marlene in her sultry, clear voice read from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, “To everything there is a season….” She is without a doubt the best lector I’ve ever heard.  But last night, to hear her echo the refrain we’ve all heard countless times, reminding us as well as herself, that our lives on this earth are fleeting, was such a gift.

Later, at the reception, I had a few moments to speak to her and share some hugs.  She said she was surprised that we made the effort to come out to share the evening with her and her family.  I told her we were always there for her, wherever we lived.  She smiled and kissed me.

As the years roll by, it seems as though we attend more funerals than weddings as we celebrate lives well lived rather than those starting out.  It’s not necessarily a bad or a good thing, it is just a thing.  

Happily, in this case, when our family of believers has gathered to lift Marlene and her children up in their time of sorrow, it is easy to imagine our family on the other side joyfully welcoming John home.  Alleluia.