Good morning, Joshua Emet.
After 20 years, I shouldn’t be surprised that it feels so different this time around. In 2005, we had just come off a bitter and disappointing campaign that saw the re-election of George W. Bush. I was a recent graduate from Washington Theological Union in DC and new to the grassroots in my area. As such a mixture of politicos, ministers, friends and family from our childhoods to early marriage poured into the small funeral home, surrounded us at the graveyard, and spent those cold, wintry early days of the year with us in our first home.
Today, we are emptynesters. Your sister, still on break, sleeps just across the hallway on borrowed time before she returns to college. And though Trump was sentenced yesterday as a felon, “bitter and disappointing” doesn’t even begin to describe the outcome of the most recent presidential election or the administration ahead.
Our plan for the day is simple: take down the remaining Christmas decorations, visit the cemetery, and watch Wicked. Together. But we’ll have to see how the day plays out. Your mom and I spoke briefly about our day’s plans while your sister was out DoorDashing. She felt there was something different this year as well.
Last year, I was still working here at Daily Kos. My holiday season was merry and bright. I had no idea there was more financial churn ahead. I didn’t know more people were going to leave or be streamlined out. Even though my job wasn’t specifically targeted, this was the second time in as many years that DK was in upheaval. I was no good to my family living in such freefall. I was “lucky” that I was able to find work again with a Catholic parish that was deeply involved in so many social justice causes and was able to do so without tagging the work with political colors or with sacharine Christian aphorism.
How was it able to accomplish that? There’s just too much work to be done. For my part, there’s always a mass to prepare for. Whether it’s the 6 masses on the weekends or the many funerals, there are too many people with needs to serve or who are looking to pitch in and need to know where they can help. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for much else.
It’s a bit like the world my wife inhabits. She tells the story of the starfish to describe her work in mental health. A storm has churned up the shore and the beach is covered with starfish baking in the hot sun. She lifts up one and throws it into the cool water and the tide pulls it out toward the jetty where it can reattach itself and thrive. Someone calls out, “You’ll never make a difference! The beach is covered with them!” She replies, “It made a difference to that one.”
At dinner last night, I suggested to her that maybe things are different this year because we’re emptynesters. We raised our daughter, your sister, under our roof. We watched her go off to elementary, middle, and high school just down the street from us. And now she comes and goes on her own collegiate schedule. And though we see her often enough, we now experience her as coming and going apart from us.
It’s felt like that with you for even longer.
So here we are...again...at the end of another Christmas Season, at the start of a New Year, at the beginning of another administration in need of stern vigilance. If it isn’t faith holding on to hope, it’s familiarity prompting resolve.
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Just a few days ago, I met with a father and daughter preparing for the funeral of their wife and mother. She died on Christmas eve after less than 2 weeks in the hospital. She was ready, they tell me. They clearly were not.
It meant so much at this time of year to be able to assist them. To tell them, you don’t have to worry about flowers...our church is still resplendent with Christmas flowers and decor. You don’t have to worry about readers, gift bearers, musicians...we’ll take care of all of that. You don’t need to think about what to feed your guests or where to meet with them. Will take care of everything.
And we did.
During our intital visit, the father and daughter stopped several times to cry and hold back tears. The father expressed how hard this was, but that he’d be OK. They’d be OK. He also said something to the effect that for us at the church, in our line of work, we must see it all the time. And thus, must be used to it.
I barely had the time or space with this family (I had three other funerals that same week) to convey to them the reasons for my deep sympathies for those who lose loved ones during the end of year holidays.
“Death is always inconvenient”, my favorite pastor (now gone for 7 years this January) would say. At this time of year, it’s something that will always get mixed in with whatever rituals and moods attach themselves to this time of year. And it’s something you’ll have to keep carrying forward as part of the whole “holiday mood.” Some people will understand. Some will not. But you’ll find kinship like nothing else with those who aren’t so much used to it, but have been living with it for years and years.
Take care, Joshua.
Come home any time.
For Auld Lang Syne
Please click here to enjoy a two-fer from Tracy McDonnell, who sang graveside on that day and who spent much of the Covid years laying down more tracks.
