She died on Gaudete Sunday.
We had seen her walking, as we often do, on our way to Mass. She was going to set up for the kids for catechism class, and then sing in the choir afterwards as is her custom. A mere 12 hours later, she was gone.
It was so sudden, and feels so hollow.
I didn't know her well, but loved her nonetheless. I am having a hard time processing her death and feeling okay with it. I have spent a lot of time these past few days thinking about her, and wondering about death.
Bury the dead. Pray for the dead. These are works of mercy, and oftentimes I think they are the most important ones. A naked person might eventually find clothes. A hungry person may stumble on a crust of bread. The ignorant might pick up a book of their own accord.
But the dead cannot bury themselves, nor can they pray for themselves. Only we can do that for them.
The archbishop will bury her on Saturday, on the last day of the third week of Advent. One the last day of the week of joyful anticipation.
May the souls of the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
