Thoughts and Prayers in the House of the Dead

Ancient Faith Ministries ^ | May 31, 2022 | Fr. Stephen Freeman

[Carpe Cerevisi]

The first time I saw my father cry was in 1963. I was nine years old. We had gotten word the day before that my mother’s oldest sister had been murdered while working in her husband’s law office. A stranger came in off the street and killed her in a deeply brutal manner. It became news across the state for nearly a year. I remember stepping into my parent’s bedroom. My father was lying on the bed, face down, and sobbing into his pillow like a child. I stepped back in awe.

The funeral was beyond somber. On the day of the visitation, I was left with my Dad’s sister-in-law. Sometimes having a kid tag along is just too much. My aunt who was looking after me that day, however, actually paid attention to me. She told me the story of how she found her own father dead, the victim of a suicide. We talked about feelings that I had no words for. I felt forever bonded to her and grateful.

Years later, when I was an Episcopal priest, we received word that a cousin had been shot to death in a chance event in his local 7-11. When the family gathered in my uncle’s home, we sat in stunned silence. The grief was beyond thick. Occasionally, some one would get up from their chair and go to the bathroom to throw up. There were no words.

I have seen many deaths, most of them natural. The grief from an accident is strong. The grief from a suicide is horrific. The grief from murder, though, seems to go beyond everything else.

[Carpe Cerevisi]

The latest from Fr. Stephen Freeman.

[FamiliarFace]

Another nice one by Father Freeman. Timely, too. Thanks.

[Southside_Chicago_Republican]

Bookmark

[Carpe Cerevisi]

You are most welcome.

[alexander_busek]

I was nine years old. [...] My aunt [...] told me the story of how she found her own father dead, the victim of a suicide. We talked about feelings that I had no words for.

It is inappropriate to "bond" with a nine-year-old child by telling him the details of finding your suicided father's body.

Years later, when I was an Episcopal priest, we received word that a cousin had been shot to death in a chance event in his local 7-11.

Nice euphemism for "innocent bystander shot to death by gang-bangers."

Regards,

[Carpe Cerevisi]

You left out this part:

I felt forever bonded to her and grateful.

I think she was just helping the poor young boy deal with his feelings. I doubt she was graphically describing his father's death.