When we were packing up mum’s house, I came across a little shrine she had created. She had a porcelain image of a bed and behind it were a number of holy cards. It was then that I realised how lonely life felt for her in her late 70s; her husband, brother, her best and closest friends, her much loved cousins had all died.
November was always a significant month for mum. Across a couple of Sundays, we would visit the graves of her parents and other relatives. Then it was a visit to Dad’s grave – whose death after a number of years remained a source of deep grief for her.
The visiting of graves is something I have inherited from mum, I think. I carry on her pilgrimage now and while there are some among us who don’t like visiting cemeteries, I find something very beautiful about them. I gaze at all the graves and it reminds me how important life is. Mum and dad are buried in a lawn cemetery and I like that there is a tangible remembrance of them both – seeing their names engraved in stone is always a powerful moment for me. It is also a reminder to me that life goes on – albeit so differently.
After those first years of intense grief that we all experience after the death of loved ones I now find it soothing to sit on the grass near the graves of my parents. I think with them about all that is going on. I hear dad’s voice at my visits – perhaps because he has been dead for such a long time – but he was a gentle person and when I look at his name on the headstone I hear his calm words of encouragement to me: ‘all will be well, Cath’. Together in life they are now together in death and I leave these visits feeling lighter, less burdened by the worries I carried there.
My parents did not live big lives. They were ordinary people doing ordinary things. But they did them with extraordinary faithfulness. They worked hard, loved generously, worried about their children, welcomed neighbours, supported their parish, and carried their share of life’s disappointments without bitterness. The world may never remember their names, but the lives they touched remember them still.
This weekend I am reminded of mum for another reason. She had a very strong reaction to the reading from the book of Proverbs about the ‘perfect wife’. She disliked it. She was never one to idealise people and I think – although a perfectionist herself – she found in this reading an aspirational view of life which she felt she could never achieve.
Looking back, I suspect Mum read too much into this passage, as many of us do. I wonder if it is not really a checklist of accomplishments or a portrait of an impossibly perfect woman. Perhaps it is a hymn in praise about everyday faithfulness. It honours someone who loves, serves, provides, perseveres and, most importantly, loves God. Perhaps the focus is not perfection but faithful resilience in the face of all that life offers.
In that sense, the reading describes countless women (and men) whose names will never appear in history books. Those who prepare meals, care for family members, visit the sick, volunteer at the parish, comfort friends, pray quietly, and somehow hold communities together. Their greatness is rarely dramatic. More often it is hidden in ordinary acts repeated day after day over a lifetime.
That was certainly true of our Mum. She would never have described herself as the woman praised in Proverbs. She knew her faults too well. Yet the older I become, the more I recognise in her many of the qualities that the reading celebrates. Not perfection, but perseverance. Not greatness, but generosity. Not fame, but a humble sense of service to those around her. Even after dad died, mum was a daily visitor to her mother-in-law, always taking something; a little bunch of flowers from the garden, something she had baked, a magazine.
The Kingdom of God is built largely around people like that. People who never seek recognition yet leave the world gentler, kinder and more hopeful because they have lived there, recognising their weaknesses and frailties but going on. Perhaps that is why Jesus so often noticed those whom everyone else overlooked. He knew that the quiet work of love has an importance that the world rarely measures correctly.
This is our November invitation. As the Church prays for the dead, we entrust those we love to God’s mercy and we give thanks for the gifts they have left us. We remember that death does not end our relationship with those who have gone before us. Love continues its work. Memory continues its quiet ministry in the hearts of those who mourn. And in God’s care, those who have walked with us in life continue to accompany us in gracious ways.
And as I sit beside my parents’ grave, I am reminded that I belong to a much larger story, one that stretches across generations. Their lives shaped mine; their faith nourished my own. And so, with gratitude and hope, I offer a prayer, listen for dad’s gentle reassurance, and continue the pilgrimage of life that my Mum taught me to make.
So, as we remember our loved ones during this month of remembrance, may we give thanks for lives that may have seemed ordinary from the outside but were, in God’s eyes, rich with grace. We trust that God has seen all those hidden acts of love and taken them into his eternal memory, where nothing given in faith is ever lost.
Eternal rest, grant unto our loved ones, O Lord. And may perpetual light shine upon them. And may those amongst us with grieving hearts find comfort and peace.
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Christine Sartori says:
Cathy, yours is a beautiful piece of writing and something I have copied to place among my special papers that have touched my heart over the years.
I too visit cemeteries – it is something I learned from my beautiful husband, John, who would visit his parents’ graves every week. I now occasionally visit these same graves but not as regularly. But I gain much solace and comfort sitting by John’s grave – remembering the life we shared, the memories we made, the amazing children that carry on lessons taught. I know as I see a lone beautiful butterfly fly by that John enjoys eternal life with God and he is at peace. And I know there is a place there for me when my time comes and we can again join in God’s wondrous promise together.
Thank you for your beautiful remembrance of your parents. May all the faithful departed rest in peace.