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November 29
Cathedral of Our Lady of the Rosary, Duluth
In the church crawl, The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Rosary was the winner with the highest ceiling topped with clear windows and stained glass of each Apostle at the lower level. The multi-colored marble pillars in the nave drew me in, then I noticed the built-in marble ambo jutting out on the right where the lector read. “Give glory and eternal praises to him,” Father Peter Muhich repeated the responsorial psalm. He connected Daniel’s dreams of beasts from Daniel 7:2-14, which started with brutal creatures and ended with the Son of man on a cloud. Father Muhich related the many questions circulating at the end of days.We can expect “much drama in the world until He comes again.” He used several examples like the circle of life to encourage us to not focus only on the end of days, but the daily disconnect in our lives. “The greatest drama is in our spiritual life. Center your life on Jesus.”
Learning about Death and Dying
Before Mack’s senior year of high school, we toured colleges. Hamline had that classic college feel with brick buildings and students playing volleyball on the lush lawn. Right after the welcome started, I had to step outside to take a phone call and caught the volleyball game dispersing. All the players went back to their jobs as soon as the students and parents were inside. The orchestrated scene left a sour taste in my mouth so I helped myself to another brownie to compensate. In case you are college shopping, St. Cloud State University (SCSU) had the best brownies. SCSU also had solid advice for Mack, where a professor in biochemistry took forty minutes to really help guide him in choosing majors and courses that would best work for forensic science.
In Duluth, the College of St. Scholastica was a fun throw-back for Scott and I as alumni, but too small for Mack. Though we were tickled when someone wheeled around after passing us in the hallway to reconnect, he planned to major in areas not available at CSS. The University of Minnesota Duluth was busy and beautiful and we could tell before we left campus that Mack had found his spot.
From that point on, communication from UMD was usually about finance, but one professor emailed me to confirm that Mack had a medical appointment, he did, because Mack had used his cell phone in class and that was forbidden. I was shocked that a professor would email about a text, but it was true and obviously was important to the professor!
But an email from Ben’s professor, Mitzi Doane, during the spring of his freshmen year read like a recommendation. Ben is a “polite young man with a strong character.” Ben had mentioned this professor because she reminded him of Grandma MaryAnn with her short stature and coincidentally also nicknamed Mitzi. I wrote her back to thank her for the contact as it was rare in college, plus who doesn’t want to hear accolades about their kid?
Six months later I felt compelled to contact Mitzi about her humanities course: “Encountering Death and Grief.” One of the assignments required students to write their advance directive and Ben had shared his with us as part of the assignment. His plan included having his ashes shot into space. I contacted Mitzi to let her know that it was like divine intervention that Ben had her class in the Spring, not Fall when I was diagnosed with metastatic cancer. Her reply stuck in my mind and heart, “Students don’t take the class; the class finds the students.” She also asked me to make sure Ben knew he could reach out to her if he ever needed to talk. He texted me shortly after that she had contacted him. I had never met Mitzi, but she gave me an extra level of comfort while Ben was at UMD.
There are plenty of people who gave us comfort along the way. One of Ben’s roommates was a classmate from elementary school. Just having Noah there gave me comfort. I knew I could contact him or his parents if we needed anything. Jeremy, a co-worker, walked by my classroom early on my last day at ROCORI and back-pedaled to offer any help. I took him up on his offer, named him Drill Dad and asked him to connect with Ben in their National Guard unit and offer whatever military advice we could not. My new neighbor was quick to offer her cell phone number and a standing offer for rides to appointments. Another neighbor with stage IV breast cancer and I met occasionally, helping each other with questions about family and mortality that no one else could relate to. Many others offered support in prayers and concern. I am pretty sure they caused me to cry more happy tears than sad. Albert Camus’ quote perfectly encapsulated my feelings: “In the midst of winter, I found there was within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger– something better, pushing right back.”
It’s seldom easy to discuss death. It’s also difficult to write about. As I hit stage IV, I found myself with more time to ponder the great beyond and was relieved to have my faith to hold me up. No matter how grave a diagnosis was or if they piled on in groups, I felt my beliefs were like a superpower armor that kept me whole. Oh, shooting webs from my wrists or being able to fly or having an invisible jet would be keen, but my gifts are perfectly suited for my life.