Rob’s brother Chris passed away earlier in the month after a long illness and two days before his 77th birthday. Our son Clarke was born in December too like his uncle (and just like Jesus 😌). We have been mourning and celebrating simultaneously.
Soon after Chris’s death I remember deeply appreciating what we do in church when we lose a loved one. For one thing, I leaned into prayer in community. I regretted that Chris’s immediate family did not have the close support of clergy, these professionals who know the traditions surrounding Life and Death.
Slowly we’re creating our own rituals. Chris’s wife enlisted the funeral home for help, and comfort too. Now that the initial sorrow of his passing and the dust of the holiday are settling, we can choose to use their obituary-memorial page…or not.
Over the years given the inherent joy and grief of extended family, we have developed our own practice: Reid Family Christmas. We had established the date when most of the locals could come before Chris died. We were hoping he’d make it, of course, but instead Brother Rick and his family from Michigan surprised us. They made plans to visit a few days before the event, staying til Christmas Eve.
Our RFC gathering was not an official memorial service, true. And yet, it was every bit as mystical. Chris’s son Elliot read a eulogy. Special readings about solstice-time and friendship were interspersed. The annual slide show, with contributions from all, included more photos and comments about Chris than about anyone else. Brothers Dan and Matt (plus recently-deceased cousin Scott) showed up too.
Who could have imagined that Rick and Rob would be the last ones standing of these five Reid boys?
Always Bridging 