Mass for the Dead

Tomorrow the noon Mass is for deceased members of Social Justice.

It’s funny how when I first joined the group, we had that Mass and I didn’t know anyone who had died, though the others could talk about them in great detail. Now, though, there are plenty of people to remember:

-Alma, one of the co-founders of the group. By the time I had joined, she had stopped coming to meetings since she didn’t feel up to it. I met her husband a while ago, and I was impressed by their willingness to put themselves out there, to take up the bishop’s challenge back in the 70’s, to put Christ’s teachings into action.

-Rose, who always baked something for the workers at holiday food packing, and whose daughter was always in desperate straits. Rose would give her food, though other people would complain that the daughter didn’t even live in the area and so did not deserve such charity. Rose always seemed like nervous bird to me, never at rest, though now I expect she is.

-Helene, who was ancient when I met her seven or eight years ago. She was the heart of the call chain, letting members know about upcoming meetings or whatever everyone needed to know about. This was in the days before email, though many of our members don’t have computers any way even to this day, so we still rely on phones.

-Wilma, who was just the sweetest person. Very tall and thin, she was very personable. We used to kid each other about assembling the Christmas angels. This process was usually a girl thing, but here I was, trying to keep up with the women who were skilled in arts and crafts. One year, my job was to put the “make-up” on the wooden angel faces. Well, Wilma just thought that was hilarious. Another year, I was gluing “hair” onto them, another source of great amusement. I miss her.

Ceil, who lived down the street from me. I didn’t know her too well, though she reminded me of my mother’s friends back in New Jersey. She always came to meetings with her best friend. When Ceil died, her friend could not bring herself to return to our gatherings.

Rudy, a rare male member of the group. He was in his 70’s I think, when he and his wife joined us. He was a great fix-it guy. Couldn’t hear too well, but he could look at a problem and come up with a nifty solution, Making clever stands for our rummage sale signs, repairing clothes racks—whatever needed doing.

Carolyn. I’m still mad at Carolyn. She was thin, slight build, always had short gray hair the whole time I knew her. I could always count on her in meetings to bring up something I had left off the list of important items to mention. “John” she would start, “Don’t you think we should…” And of course she was always right about whatever it was she wanted to talk about—not pushy right, but just right right. Chances are, I skipped an item because I didn’t think it was important, but she never let me slide. She was a heavy smoker for years and developed lung cancer a few years ago. I went to see her in the hospital once, and there was no one else in her room. I found her sitting in a hospital chair in her nightie, one knee up, one curled under her. She looked like a pixie. We talked for a while about not much and then I left. She died a few days later. I’m still mad because I miss her so much, and because it was all so unnecessary. She didn’t have to have lung cancer. It didn’t have to happen.

We have some members who are failing now, so I expect this list will growth with the names of wonderful people, both crotchety and sweet, who did what they could to make others’ lives a little easier. I wonder who will step up to take their places?