  Within the past 90 hours, I've been to two ceremonies that have each featured the bagpipes and "Ave Maria. " One was a wedding, and the other was a funeral. On Saturday, we watched as our friends Scott and Leslie begin their new life together. The ceremony began and ended with a kilted piper. The exposed rafters of the church had "Ave Maria" painted ornately on them. Today, I sat with some Junior League friends as one of our own said goodbye to her exceedingly talented, intelligent, and cherished 26-year-old son Andrew. The ceremony began and ended with a kilted piper. A tenor sang "Ave Maria" as the post-communion hymn.
Having been raised (baptized and confirmed) an Episcopalian, I'm more than familiar with Catholicism, as the Episcopal faith is like "Catholic Lite" -- with roughly the same amount of standing, sitting, kneeling, and other rituals (only without all the guilt. ) And, similar to how it was growing up at St. Luke's Episcopal in Auburn, my mind wandered quite a bit during much of the Eucharist portion of the service today at Sacred Heart in East Sac. I saw Andrew's mom, Cheryll, and knew that she'd never wear that same dress again and not think, "This is what I wore to his funeral. " I still have two dresses hanging in my closet -- one that I wore to my dad's memorial service and the other to his burial at the Presidio in '92. Even though I've had them both for more than a decade, they're classics and I still wear them once in a while; however, as nice as they look, I've never felt the same in them. Yet, I refuse to relegate them to the closet of stuff I don't wear much anymore, nor could ever imagine putting them in my donation bag for the WEAVE Works project.
Also, while I knew how important it was for me to be there today to support Cheryll and her family, I knew that all of us in the congregation were likely a blur. I honestly cannot tell you who was at my father's service. It's only when I look through the guest book that I realize how many people were there.
The church was absolutely packed for Andrew's service today, and it's obvious that he was very loved and respected by a wide variety of people. At one point during the service I turned to my friend Debbie and told her "I wrote a paper on that poem in college," referring to A.E. Housman's work "To an Athlete Dying Young" that was read after eulogies. Debbie said, "I did too. " It broke what was a tense moment -- both of us trying to be stoic, but quickly succumbing to the emotion that one feels as empathy to someone else who is absolutely falling apart with grief (in this case, the girl who read the poem.
) So, after the service, I headed back to my office and resumed my life as I know it -- only with the thought of how much a person's life can change depending on what happens between the opening and closing songs of the bagpipe and "Ave Maria.
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