On the Far Shore

On Friday, my family celebrated the life of my Aunt Nelia (wife of my mom’s brother Gregory and mother to my cousin Brendan), who, after a five-year battle with cancer, passed away on October 15^th. She lived in Walla Walla, Washington, but wanted to be buried in Ottawa, next to my Grandpa Phil, who died on Christmas day, 2007.

The funeral was beautiful – a true celebration of life. At the reception following Mass, Greg shared a few words about Nelia and how peacefully she approached her journey home. She was not afraid – she was ready. The heart which had known many sorrows was finally at peace and she was happy. It was so moving to hear Greg speak of her last days, knowing that her race is run. As Greg said, she is now on the far shore.

After a brief reception in the church hall, the family proceeded to the cemetery for the burial service. The celebrant said a few prayers and then we were all invited to pray and say our private goodbyes. As I knelt by the casket I felt a strong sense of peace, as though Nelia were sharing a taste of her newfound gift with me. She always had a generous heart.

The rest of the day was spent at Grandma’s house, the hub of the Bourassa family. We shared food, stories, laughter and tears. I was especially moved by how humbly Greg shared his love for his wife and his grief at losing her. He did not hide his emotion, nor was he overcome by it. He was philosophical about Nelia’s passing, as he is with most things, knowing that she is happy and that his own life will carry on – but he was also candid about the challenges he knows lay ahead, and the heartache of journeying on without the company of his beloved partner.

Since hearing the news of Nelia’s death, I have reflected a lot on how quickly life passes – how momentary it all is in the face of eternity. Nelia’s journey is over now – there’s no second lap, no curtain call. She lives on with God, but her work here is done. No matter how deeply I ponder that reality, the significance of it still seems to elude me. Done. Accomplished. Perhaps this is because being done is only part of the story; we were made for eternity, and although our limited minds feel more comfortable within boundaries, the sense of eternity within us still bucks against the concept of ending. Maybe I find it so hard to conceive of not seeing Nelia again because at the deepest level of my being, I know I will. This knowledge doesn’t make it easy to be separated from a loved one, but it certainly soothes the sting of loss.

I have also been prompted to think about opportunity, outreach and regret. I think it’s common to feel, when someone dies, the longing to go back, to have another chance to know them better, to reach out more often, to show more love. Regrets can bind us with their shackles of hopelessness. I don’t think God wants us to be shackled by our failings – instead he urges us to learn from our shortcomings and choose differently when the opportunity arises to love again, to reach out to someone else, to spend more time this time around. After all, the person we wished we could have loved better is now in the company of perfect love, but those with us here can still benefit from our caring.

I feel for my uncle and cousin, but I know their hearts will heal. They are men of faith, and know well the beautiful truth that through all the changes and challenges of this life, God remains. And I’m sure that Nelia will watch out for them from heaven, making her presence felt in the details of their lives, as she did so aptly here on earth.