While there is a bit of my story missing, from the time I started sharing until now, I thought this passage was fitting for today...World Suicide Prevention Day 2024. If my post gets just one suffering person to seek help and understand the impact of suicide, then that is a start.
Readying ourselves for the funeral was very much like preparing for the wake the day before. Fear, trepidation. Dressed, all with a spot or more of green, the kids and I filled the shot glasses once again and said a toast to our guy before we left. Warm, soothing…I would have preferred a big smothering John McGeary hug.
I don’t remember what time we arrived at the church or what time the funeral actually took place. We were there ahead of everyone and planned an hour for greeting people who hadn’t made it to the wake. There were so many faces still to see. We were blessed…not with money, although we weren’t poor, but with a commodity of friends on which it was impossible to put a value. One after the other after the other they kept coming. More tears, more smiles, more laughter, more memories. Each person their own special blessing on our life.
As the hour neared when the service was to start the “friendship army” gathered in the vestibule. They were amazing. All wearing a green tie. I was told that there were a number of them who didn’t own a green tie and that there were so many of them looking for one that when they arrived at a store (of which there were realistically only three or four) and told the salesperson what they needed, the salesperson said, “you must be part of that funeral.”
There was still a line of people out the door, but as it was already past the posted start time everyone was ushered to a seat so that we could begin. I said hello to all of the guys, gave many of them a hug and said that we would chat at the Club. My boys, Kevin and Charlie were at the front with the ashes, followed by the “friendship army,” me and Maddie, and all of our family members behind us. We processed in to “Here I am Lord.” I don’t remember if I cried. What I do remember is that the church was packed. I’m sure there were seats that weren’t filled, but from where I was it seemed like standing room only. You see that kind of outpouring of love and you can’t help but question why he couldn’t see it. Why he didn’t know how much people cared about him and how any one of us would have done anything to help him. They say, although I don’t know who “they” are, that suicide victim’s minds become locked…frozen, and like tunnel vision can’t see any other way out.
The friendship army, all 38 of them, was spectacular and they gave credence to the impact that John made on people’s lives. Everyone in place, my boys sat in the front pew on my left, Maddie glued to me on my right. It was a lovely service. John’s niece, Michelle, and nephew, Kevin, each spoke the readings and Monsignor stuck to his promise to keep his words light with talk of what a happy guy John was. After communion and before Charlie walked to the altar the song “Go Light Your World” was sung. Fitting and beautiful it speaks of the candle in every soul, some whose light has gone out and the need for us to help each other, to help those who have lost their flame by going into the darkness and leading them out..
… There is a candle in every soul
Some brightly burning, some dark and cold
There is a Spirit who brings fire
Ignites a candle and makes His home
… Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world
… Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to
Light his own candle some other way
See now your sister, she's been robbed and lied to
Still holds a candle without a flame
… Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the lonely, the tired and worn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world……
Charlie then delivered the words of a guy grieving the loss of his best friend, poised but broken. I will never forget the unexpected but necessary pause he took toward the end of his message. It was long enough that our friend, Deacon Kinsella walked over to help him, putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder to let him know he was there. With gratitude and eyes welled up, Charlie shook his head gently, pointed to the paper and then shaking his finger up toward heaven signaled that he could finish...he would finish. I remember at that moment worrying about how he would get over this loss. How he would move on without his best friend. How any of us would move on.
When the final blessing was said there was a moment of silence before our friend, Nick, started singing his rendition of The Parting Glass. It was the perfect way to end the service and to say goodbye and Nick sang it beautifully. My plan was for everyone to listen from where they stood, and once the song ended we would process out to the music of the bagpipes. First the boys and the ashes, then the friend army and then me and Maddie and the family.
I remember having my head hung down a little listening to Nick sing when the funeral director came over and motioned for me to come out of the pew and get behind the boys for the final procession. I looked up to where Nick was singing, pointed to my ear and shook my head indicating that I was not going to move until after the song was over. In doing so, I also realized that all the members of the “friendship army” were exiting their pews. My heart stopped. This was not the way it was supposed to happen, but I had the sudden realization that I hadn’t really told anyone my plan. It was my fault. I leaned over to Maddie, who was now to my left and closer to the aisle, and whispered, “What are they doing? That’s not what they are supposed to do.” I was a little upset that it wasn’t going my way. I wanted them there for the final procession. I had a plan. I expressed my concern to Maddie again and she turned to me and in a very low whisper directed me to “shut the fuck up.” At her father’s funeral. I was so upset… the guys were leaving and my daughter didn’t understand how important it all was to me.
The song ended and the boys, Kevin and Charlie started walking with the ashes. The funeral Director was back and lifted his hand toward me and Maddie to follow after the boys. Maddie and I held hands. Walking out of the pew we turned the corner into the middle aisle of the church. It was then that I could see what Maddie was seeing all along. She knew what was happening the whole time but my view had been blocked. There they were. The friendship army. They hadn’t left the church, they were lining the aisle on both sides a little further down. This was far better than what I had envisioned. It wasn’t my idea, but I am told that one of them wrapped arms with another, and then they all followed suit. Fierce faces. Stoic, yet broken. Tears streaming down their cheeks. This was an unbelievable loss for the men John called friends. This was a battle cry. If they could lose their strong, happy, vivacious friend, they could lose anyone. And each knew that they could never let that happen again. They were ready to go into battle but, like me, knowing this particular battle had been lost without the opportunity to fight.
As we walked toward the door you could hear the sound of the bagpipes. Outside the men all gathered. I saw my nephew, Charlie. His eyes were red and puffy and there was mucus from his nose hanging down below his chin. As I walked toward him he began sobbing. Clutching him in my arms I forgot what a loss this was to him and his sister Kassia. They were young and Uncle John played a big role in their lives. As I opened my eyes from the extended hug I realized it was snowing. Not a lot…just a gentle flurry. If you believe in signs, you believed at that moment that he was there. Just a gentle nod to let us know that he was appreciative for the morning and that he missed us.
Maddie and I arrived at the Club and a valet took our car. Inside, everything was just as I had asked. It was perfect. Everyone who wanted a drink was able to get one quickly and there was a bar and servers if they wanted something stronger. The size of a large wedding, I was accurate with my estimated count with just over 300 guests. At the end of the day it would be a really big bill but that didn’t matter. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted everyone to leave feeling good about the day and the man that we were remembering. Many of them hadn’t had the chance to meet with us and talk, so this time…this casual happy setting where we stood and watched a TV screen with photos of him …of all of us with him… was a great place to catch up and reminisce.
By the end of the day the large group had dispersed and a small group of us had gathered in the bar. My children were among those who stayed, and my nieces and nephews. This was the time we could finally collapse. We had been through a lot that week. We had been strong for others, for each other, for ourselves.
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