
May her memory be a blessing.
Today I attended the funeral and life celebration of Mary Deeley, friend of decades, teacher, preacher, and leader of the Sheil Catholic Center community at my alma mater, Northwestern University. Funny, and I think a little divine, that I wrote notes for reunion two nights ago. Father Ken Simpson celebrated the mass today, and I felt at home, seeing so many familiar faces from decades of relationship. Mary’s spouse spoke with love and humor, just as I imagine Mary would have wanted. It was a whirlwind day of smiles, hugs (so many hugs, it was awesome), and memories. What a lovely reminder for what’s important in life (our relationships) and how to spend the finite time and attention we are given (not much at all, and duh, on relationships).
Let’s see if I can do the feelings justice:

- Your memory is indeed a blessing. What a beautiful expression. We miss your bodily presence terribly, and we know you are always with us.

2. When we remember those who have passed, may we honor their legacy of love and impact on us by paying it all forward as best we can. 🙂

3. Long before any of us pass, may we share our fondest remembrances of each other. Why wait until the end? Recall and rejoice today!

4. May we honor and respect past versions of ourselves that had to go. They served us until they didn’t and it’s OK to mourn them and keep living.

5. When I come across something that reminds me of you, I try always to mark it somehow. So the cosmos knows about you and how you still matter.

6. “You know, the death rate from life is 100%.” –My very wise patient. We can choose to create the memories worth recalling by living as intentionally as possible now. In love.

7. If/when I lose my memory, I hope the cosmos will let me keep the love above all else. When I see your face, that’s all I need to remember about us.

8. Let us welcome the memories that bring tears. They signal deep connection and remind us of what we share. They make us human. Welcome welcome welcome.

9. First I thought about grief Then about loss. But remembrance is now my preferred frame. It feels more connecting to the love somehow.

10. When that stab of sudden and intense remembrance strikes, may we slow a step, take a breath, and allow it. It’s transient and a blessing through the ether.

11. They say grief can only live where love has already been. That makes it easier to think about, and no easier to feel through… Still, yeah. Love.

12. Sometimes I remember you as if you have already passed. It’s morbid, I know. But it helps me appreciate you now. It awakens me to us.
Huh. I’m pretty happy with these. Onward, my friends.
And we love you, Mary.


























