Today I attended a funeral of a little humble lady that was a constant in our parish. She was 96years old. She never missed a day of mass. Once when we went out for lunch she began telling me about her youth, and I'm all but 100% positive that she and my mother traveled the same route during the W.W II. They were both in Siberia, both in Africa and both in England all before coming to Canada. She'd out lived her husband, son , who both died in Siberia, and then her daughter and son-in-law. Her grandchildren did not live close by, she lived on her own. I was amazed at her strength and commitment. Up until a few months ago she didn't even see a doctor regularly. A few months ago she broke her arm. And then a week ago she had a bad fall which eventually ended her life. She went out of this world as quietly as she lived, but not alone. I think her grandchildren were amazed at the number of parishioners that attended the funeral celebration, and I know they were amazed that we all seemed to know all about her. They were amazed at how involved this little lady was. I guess you can think you know someone and yet have a lot to learn about them. I couldn't help thinking of how she must have been devastated when her daughter died 33yrs ago, losing a child and a spouse in time of war was one thing, but losing your child to illness is quite another, and of course my waterworks were endless. I just have to think about someone dying and my tears are endless. My poor friend just couldn't calm me down, I forgot to tell her to just ignore me, or I'll have the whole church sobbing. At one point I think I wet my candle wick and the flame almost went out. It took me well into the afternoon to sort of settle down. In my head I know we must die,and certainly at 96 but I wish my heart got the same message. Farewell dear lady.