Way of the Cross for the Bereaved

I have a copy of a pamphlet titled The Way of the Cross for the Bereaved, by Rev Terence P. Curley, D.Min. I've just been looking at it and it looks wonderful. Deacon Jerry said that I could do a Way of the Cross in the Chapel whenever it's open. I have an appointment to see him today. Maybe I could do a Way of the Cross afterward.

The Way of the Cross comes up of course in Salvifici Doloris and in a way must be a special means ... a sacramental means, an iconic means ... of embracing the redemptive suffering of Christ and of uniting one's own suffering redemptively to His.

I sit here in our home ... and for now it is my home as well as hers; and ours in the wider sense that I truly believe that the Man of Sorrows and the Mother of Sorrows and all the angels and saints dwell here unseen.

In a way couldn't this home ... and everything in it ... and me myself ... be iconic? Of course everything really is iconic. But in my floundering endeavor to find some kind of purpose or meaning to life after Mom's death ... could this in fact be it? In the short run, I've said and still believe that working for funding to maintain my residence here, in what is truly my "home away from True Home ... this may be a good short-term goal. In the short and longer term as well ... could living the Way of the Cross be my purpose, my reason for living still? We all, of course, have a Way of the Cross. Couldn't this be mine?

My aunt supposes ... as she's said, with kindness and transparent well meaning, repeatedly ... that she imagines I'll be visiting Mom's grave less and less over time. That's "moving on" to her. And really I'm sure I was kind of harsh when speaking yesterday about the exponents of "moving on". God has so many paths for so many; "moving on" may indeed be the path for most. Hey: if I were married, if I had children, I think God's will would almost by necessity be for me to "move on".

But I'm not married (existentially speaking) and I have no children. No family obligations. No great active Vocation. No great tasks before me. Nothing. And this has been part of my pain: what am I here for now?

Well ... maybe to walk a Way of the Cross for the Bereaved.

Because after all Pain and Suffering I can do. Clearly. I definitely have my limits; and a little relief sometimes ... going to the movies ... may reflect my weakness and my limitations, but yet Salvifici Doloris and the Way of the Cross may be my Vocation now.

And really ... well ... when I think about it ... suppose by God's Grace I am able to stay in this my home? And suppose I simply worked till my death, going to visit Mom's Grave and say the Office for the Dead there, every morning and every evening? Until God sees fit to call me Home and my earthly body is laid in the grave beside that of Mom?

Suppose all this ... would that be so bad?

No. And really just the opposite, if this is God's will.

Sitting here ... once again one of those cold, bleak mornings ... sipping my tea ... looking over at the empty chair where Mom sits no longer ... sede vacante ... isn't there something a little iconic here? Perhaps of Mary's Dormition. Or of the Tomb of Holy Saturday. Could not all this be a living Ikon of the Sufferings of God?

Maybe not such a bad way of life at all, really ...

And this need not mean that the "refreshment" of God become unavailable. In Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, the Bower for the rest and refreshment of weary pilgrim travelers. I mentioned movies. And yesterday I experienced again what I think I mentioned about a week ago: that invitation, "Why should your heart not dance?" As in Lewis's Till We Have Faces. And dance my heart did, and I smiled, and laughed. The dog and I were going for a walk and the weather and the trees and the grass were just lovely and beautiful.

But beyond these things, everything feels like dust and ashes. I had an interest in reading about politics at one time; seems to be (mostly) gone. I had an interest in professional progress at one time; now I just can't even begin to care. Oddly this is all fine with me. What dust and ashes. This for me I think is the message ... part of the message ... part of the *meaning* ... of Mom's passing. Memento mori, Charles, her Death whispers to me. Memento mori. And the Psalms in the Office relentlessly whisper ... and sometimes shout ... the same thing. Sic transit gloria mundi. Memento mori.

Help me O Lord to embrace Your Most Holy and Loving Will
For me and for my dear departed Mother

Thank You for being here, O Man of Sorrows, with me now, along with Your Mother of Sorrows, and with all the saints and angels of heaven. Thank You for being with each and every one of us in our trials.

Lord if it be according to Your Will that I find in my Mother's Death a new Way of the Cross for the remainder of my days, I accept Your Will, One Day at a Time; but only if You be with me and give me Your Grace to do through You what I cannot do for myself.

Lord if other be Your Will, I accept it, if you help me accept it.

Lord if it be Your Will that Loneliness and Futility be part of the Way of the Cross for me, then I accept these too, if it be Thy Will; only send me Your Strength and Comfort O Lord for without these I can do nothing and I am utterly undone.

O Lord how I miss my Momma .... please take good care of her, wherever she is, and if it be according to your will, may I ask for her prayers to sustain me in this Journey through Darkness until, if it be Your Will, we may both find one another again at the end of our Journeys in Your Glorious Light.

I love you Jesus.

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Luke