Katharine Mahon
Doctoral Student, Liturgical Studies
University of Notre Dame
Contact Author
Last year Timothy O?Malley wrote about All Souls? Day and celebrating the hope-filled doctrine of purgatory.? It cannot be denied that our celebration of All Souls? Day is forever connected to our belief in purgatory and the beauty and comfort of God?s endless mercy promised in that doctrine.? In my discussion of All Souls? Day this year, however, I would like instead to turn our attention to the idea of celebrating death?even consider the possibility of celebrating a happy death?and reflect upon the hope to be found in a Christian approach to death if we are willing to look for it.? I will share the story of my grandfather passing away and how his dying has forever affected my spirituality.
Death is, without question, a difficult topic to discuss.? Virtually all of us have dealt with the death of a loved one and experienced the feelings of loss, fear, and hopelessness that often result; these are not pleasant topics of discussion.? Even more uncomfortable to reflect upon is the fact that we are each of us, at this very moment, in the process of 
dying; each heartbeat and each breath bring us closer to that moment when our lungs will no longer function and our hearts will cease to beat.? I do not mean to meditate on these facts for the sake of morbid obsession, but to make my starting point for this reflection abundantly clear: death is an absolute certainty for each and every one of us.? This is a truth that no amount of denial, success, science, love, or faith can prevent.? Our only choice in the matter is how we will approach death: with abject terror or with a peaceful heart, with all anxiety or with all hope?? Death is a natural and necessary part of life?it is in fact the culmination of all life?and the Christian tradition does not avoid the reality of death. ?Countless Masses have been said for the dead, countless prayers prayed for the repose of souls, and for some time death was a major part of Christian liturgical life.? It was not all sorrow and memorial, however, as one of the most popular genres of spiritual writing and personal devotion in the Middle Ages was the preparation for or guide to Christian death; a common blessing, in fact, was wishing someone a happy death.? We might see this as a morbid thought today, but having experienced a happy death within my own family, I can think of no kinder blessing to wish for someone.
My maternal grandfather was one of the most thoughtful, warm-hearted, pragmatic, and faith-filled people I have ever known.? He was a farmer and a Korean War veteran, a father of six, a loving husband, and would become a grandfather of over a dozen grandchildren, most of whom he would never meet.? A two-time cancer survivor, my grandfather was struck by his final bout of cancer when I, his oldest grandchild, was nine; through the invaluable work of the hospice program he was given the gift of spending his final days at home.? He died surrounded by his children and my grandmother, having said his goodbyes to us grandchildren a few weeks earlier.? My grandfather?s faith was integrated throughout all that he did?from his farming to his parenting?and his death was no different.? Just as the cycle of plowing, planting, harvesting, and winter snows defined his livelihood, so the cycle of birth, growth, waning, and death defines our lives: each stage inescapable, each stage necessarily complimenting the others. ?Our beloved parish priest, Father Paul, worked with him and all of us as a family, guiding us through the process of approaching his coming death.? He received the sacraments, he was not in pain, he was surrounded by loving family, and he was at home; neither we nor he could have asked for more.
And yet there was more.? As the weeks and then the years passed, my mother, aunts and uncles, and my grandmother began to relate the story of my grandfather?s final days to me. ?About a week before he died, as he lay in his hospice bed in the living room, my grandfather noticed the strangest thing.? Fully conscious, in very little pain, not filled with pain medicine and not in the final moments of his life, he calmly explained to those gathered in the room that there, across the room, he could see circles of light and one brighter light.? Did they not also see them?? No, his children and wife replied, but they encouraged him to describe what he saw.? The lights appeared from time to time over the next few days, he?d tell them, and it was as if he saw a closed gate just beyond them.? Soon the circles became peoples? silhouettes, too far away to be discernable, but still present.? The gateway, too, became clearer: his face lit up as he described it as the edge of heaven, a place of incredible beauty, warmth, and welcome. ??They?ll be okay. Let me go,? he said some time later, and the gate opened before him.? The next night those lights that had lingered for days made themselves known?love and joy radiated from him as he greeted his beloved and long-passed sister, his parents, and his lifelong friend as though they were standing beside him.? Some time later, there on his farm, surrounded by the living and the dead who loved him, with the light of heaven shining on him and peace filling his heart, my grandfather passed away.
My grandfather is profoundly missed; he was incredibly sorry to leave us and to not have more time with all of us.? He was not scared, however, having reunited with those who he had himself missed for so long, and he wanted to make clear to us that we will have nothing to fear, either, when our time comes, and that he will be there when it does.? One thing that I cannot ever deny, which I know down to my very core, I know because of the incredible experience and witness of my grandfather?s happy and holy death, and all of my prayers and each instance of worship for me is simply trying to remember this truth.? This truth is that we are loved.? We are loved beyond imagining.? We were each of us loved into existence by our Creator, we are loved by family and friends here on earth, they continue to love us even after they pass away, and we ourselves will continue to love others even after we pass.? We are loved, we are tenderly cared for, we are watched over, and the core hope of the Christian faith is to one day return in love to the God who so loved us that he became human like us, died like us, and was resurrected so that we might always live in his love.? Each celebration of the Eucharist here on earth, through which we sacramentally join in loving communion with God and one another, is but a foretaste of the communion of love awaiting us.
The story of my grandfather?s death still brings such joy, wonder, and hope to me even today, nearly two decades later, that it has become a central truth of my spirituality and even my very being.? When I celebrate All Souls? Day this year, remembering with love all of my friends and family members who have passed, I will remember them in light of my grandfather?s death, and comforted by the fact that they, too, were welcomed into God?s loving presence by their departed loved ones and with the hope they will one day welcome me into the light of God?s face.
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