My Own Memorial Day Eulogies

On Memorial Day, we here in the United States remember all the deceased men and women who have served as members of our military forces. However, I want to remember today nine deceased friends and family members who touched my life with goodness. 

Because of my age, many of my friends have already died. To celebrate all their lives today would make this posting too long, so I’ve chosen these nine from a larger number. All of them were once a blessing in my life and they continue to be so.

I believe in the Holy Oneness of All Creation. That is, I believe we are all One—all of us living today, all who lived in the past, all who will come in the future. For me, Holy Oneness sums up my belief in the Love that bonds us all—past, present, future—together. 

Each of the nine people whom I’ll celebrate today continues to touch the lives of others through me and through all those whose lives they touched in the past.

Mom—Hellen O’Mara Ready—died in May 1968; she was 58. She was totally nonjudgmental toward everyone she met. If I am open to what life offers, it is because of her.

Dad—John Ready—died in 1975; he was 69. Lacking confidence and unsure of his parents’ love, he began to drink. Yet after Mom’s death, he endured. He even flourished. He taught me to look forward to possibilities and to work with probabilities.

My aunt—Gladys Ready Thomas—died in 1998; she was 84. Despite life’s difficulties, she was joyous throughout her entire life. Her belief in me gave me the confidence to write.

Annette Chastain and I entered the convent together. She died in 1997; she was 58. Deeply philosophical, she frequently helped me—in the years after we left the convent—to put things into perspective and to find humor in the vagaries of life.

Mary Alice Guilfoil and I were nuns together. She died in 1997; she was 61. She had a rare gift for making friends. Her example helped me become less self-conscious and more aware of others and their needs.

Miriam Frost, whom I met when I moved to Minnesota, died in 2009; she was 67. A critical thinker, she was an iconoclast. She taught me to question what I heard and saw and encouraged me to touch life lightly.

Jim Bitney died in 2013; he was around 60. A gentle man, his mind roamed far and wee, always open to new possibilities, always seeking a way to build community. His refusal to be rushed to a decision tempered my own impulsiveness.

John Welshons died in 2013; he was 76. Astoundingly intuitive, he was able to bring out a person’s best talents and gifts. His belief in my abilities led me into a career beyond teaching.

Florence Flaugaur died in 2016: she was 92. A beautiful simplicity, which she maintained throughout life, led her to get to the pith of every issue. She taught me how to develop curriculum and thus gave me a freelance career.

These nine and others blessed my life with their graciousness.

Peace.

Postscript:

If you have the time and inclination, please click here to read the guest posting I did on Rick Watson’s blog. He asked five questions that really got me thinking! His great talent is to ask questions of those he meets in Alabama and to write their unique stories.

Photo from Wikipedia.