Uncle Donnie’s Last Thanksgiving : Saying Goodbye and the Power of Touch

*This is the speech I read today at his funeral, written last night.

HERE is his obituary, if you’d please take a moment to read about his life.

Regrettably, I didn’t spend much time with Uncle Donnie. But I was happy when he moved to Illinois circa six weeks ago to Brookdale Assisted Living.

I never knew my grandfathers– both died before I could meet them. I visited his room three times, and twice in the ICU at Presence Medical Center in Joliet. I didn’t know exactly what to say– I felt a bit intimidated. But he made and effort to make me comfortable as if it were his own home. I found I liked him, though he was a bit gruff. He sat in his leather chair and I sat on the bed, and we shared a companionable silence. We watched TV.

Both of us had a hearing-loss, but he really struggled to hear me. I could see how much he struggled to communicate. Even speaking slowly and enunciating well, often I still failed to convey my words in a way he could understand. But he took an active role in our conversation and asked me questions when I was feeling shy.

In his mini-fridge, he had a few basics: green grapes, Cheesehead’s string cheese, Sprite and Hershey’s milk chocolate bars. Each time I visited, he would offer me anything available– he wanted to be hospitable. He ate the string cheese in bites, while I peeled it. Thought he possessed little, he was instinctively generous and wanted to share.

I regret that I waited till the tend of his life to cultivate a friendship with this gentle man. He wore a beautiful gold watch, and allowed me to clean it up for him. He trusted me so easily with what must have been a prized possession. He also wore two medals on a gold chain– St. Christopher, and St. Francis, I believe. He had a beautiful crucifix on his wall. Clearly, he was a devout Catholic man.

I never called him in Florida for the same reason I never reach out to many family members I wish I knew better- I don’t know what to say. But I learned while visiting that what we say does not matter-rather, it’s our gesture of reaching out that matters.

When my Dad told me he was in the ICU on Black Wednesday, I went to visit him. He had a breathing apparatus on, but recognized me when I touched his arm. A nurse came to draw blood and I held his opposite hand for support. I knew how much it can hurt. He didn’t fuss or complain as she did her job.

On Thanksgiving my parents and I went back, and I was able to see him one last time. He was less responsive, but still fighting. Breathing was hard for him. We watched TV.

Other family arrived. Uncle Donnie never spoke that day, but he responded immediately to touch. He would turn his face toward the person and it seemed to deeply relax him. I watched our family keep a vigil at his bedside- holding onto Uncle Donnie. Letting him known we were there, that he was loved. We took turns being alone and saying goodbye. We were sitting around his bed just talking normally, when I left for maybe 20 minutes. I came back and he had just been unhooked and passed. All of us cried. We prayed over him.

I’m grateful I was given this chance to know him. To have a few moments to experience what it must be like to have a grandfather. Our love for him brought us together on Thanksgiving and he made his peace with life, his beloved family, and departed.

Now I bet he’s up in Heaven, smoking his Pall Mall Menthol 100’s, eating a Hershey’s bar, and watching over us.

As my father said, our dear Uncle Donnie went home for Thanksgiving. Home to rest with our eternal Father.

This Little Golden Cross

I like wearing it all the time.

In my younger days, I changed necklaces often. Not expensive ones– just costume jewelry.

But for quite awhile now– probably a few years– I’ve usually been wearing a cross necklace. I have about four that I alternate, all of them gifts.

I DO wear costume jewelry sometimes, but try to wear a cross necklace underneath. I feel guilty if I don’t! Yup, I’m pretty Catholic.

But my favorite one is the gold cross. I’m not sure who gave it to me, but my Dad thinks it was Sister, my aunt who was a nun.

The other cross necklaces all have some kind of issue– the chain isn’t the right length. Or the clasp on the necklace comes loose and it falls off the chain. The chain itself doesn’t stay hooked, and it comes undone as I’m wearing it.

But I’ve noticed that I never have any problems with this necklace.

I didn’t wear it for awhile last week– just to see if I felt any different.

And I did. I was more troubled. I doubted myself constantly. I just seemed to have all kinds of bad luck and bad energy coming towards me.

Some people don’t believe in Satan, but I do. And I truly believe that wearing this cross is protection against anything he may try.

My religion has always been a fundamental, non-negotiable aspect of my identity. I’m tolerant of a lot of different types of people, but one thing I always demand is that they respect that I’m Catholic. I don’t care if they’re non-believers, or Christians of a different denomination– I accept them without judgement  as long as they good people who treat me well. But I will not put up with them hassling me about my beliefs. Trying to break my faith, or convert me to theirs.

Maybe it’s time that I start wearing this necklace every day. I wonder what changes that would bring in my life?

This particular cross feels like a lucky charm.

Not saying that I’ll never get another cross or wear anything different. But for now, this one feels like the right one to be wearing.

It’s shiny. I like that the first thing people will see about me is that I’m a believer.

I feel an instant camaraderie whenever I see other people wearing a cross or a crucifix necklace.   Or if they have Christian-themed tattoos, whatever the design.

If I got some ink, it would probably a Catholic image of some sort, or maybe a scripture.

I never wonder about the details. If we all believe in God, what else matters?

Scapulars, medals and those little wooden bracelets with icon stickers are distinctly Catholic, unless it’s Greek Orthodox, because they have their own saints. I like those too.

Sometimes we smile at each other and nod. Sometimes there’s a comment.

But always, I feel safer knowing that in this unstable world there are so many others out there who believe what I do– that we need to serve others, pray, and ask for strength in Him.