The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

THE VILLAGE

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This video guts me. It filets me in a way that makes me more aware of what I should be aware of and maybe what I shouldn’t be aware of as much.

Most of the time when I stand up for the LGBTQ Community in any of its forms, I’m often asked, “Is there somebody in your family that’s like that?”  The generalize thought is that would be a reason why I should stand up for somebody that’s different than me, somebody who’s life and lifestyle I will never be able to understand or on my best day, comprehend.  Somehow the thought is, “Well, I could maybe understand if someone close to you lives this kind of lifestyle or why they chose it and you’re showing support”  Uh, NO, NO, when you interacted with those who live such lives and the people who love and support them suffer, you’d know it’s anything but a choosing anyone would purposely put themselves through and yet, STILL, THE ASKINGS.          .          .
I am also asked what’s your most difficult kind of funeral to conduct and my knee-jerk reaction often is a baby, especially one that may be premature; but in my heart of hearts, I think again the one the ones that get me the most are not suicides but suicide because somebody is different sexually, and a family member or members or society can’t accept that and they find no other way to cope, but to die, to commit suicide.
So yes, there’s somebody in my family that’s different,  just like there’s somebody in your family that’s different, just like everybody in the world is different and so now I have to choose, will I be different too and maybe more importantly will I treat people differently because of my differences?
QUESTIONS, CLASS?
Uhhhhh.    .   .if it takes a Village
.        .       .maybe it really takes a
BETTER ONE!

What say YOU?

The Hey, H E Y Moments

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h e y
is a lot different than
H          E          Y

unless we go around treating
L I F E
ho-humily-all-of-the-same.       .       .
‘hey, so what the lights are off.’

hey, HEY.    .    .sometimes life screams at us. HEY, stop! Look at me!  Pay attention! and no matter how much it shouts at us, no matter how much it flicks us behind the ear, thumps in the head, we don’t look, we pay it no mind and there’s the ultimate Ba-BAM across the head,  with the 2 x 4 right between the eyes: DEATH and even though we die millions of times we resurrect in even more and many ways that unfortunately, we never notice.          .          .          .

Yes, the lights were off in more than one way last Friday night early in the evening as high winds and rain swept through the Northeastern Ohio area knocking out power in a lot of places; one of them a funeral home where we were celebrating the life of a 24 year old young man who had been diagnosed with epilepsy just 10 months ago out of nowhere and now after a seizure, died.

Now, that’s a HEY kind of a moment that’ll grab you by the throat and make you breathe a little differently.

All of his friends and family were gathered together in a darkened funeral parlor, with the lights from their phones being the only light as one of several of his friends, his sister and his fiancé stood and recounted the memories that needed know background lights.

A family priest came and offered the sacred words that were meant to bring some comfort and some sense out of the dark senselessness that brought us together.  Holding his phone to bring some illumination where none seemed to be found he read,
“And for this reason we never become discouraged; even though are physical beings are gradually decaying our spiritual beings are renewed day after day; in fact, this small, temporary trouble we suffer will bring us an eternal glory much greater than any of the trouble, for we fix our attention not on the things that are seen but the things that are unseen; the things that are seen are transient; they last but for a time.  But the things that are unseen, these are the things that are eternal; they last forever.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

And then came the HEY that is different than all other HEY’S; the HEY MOMENT that we often miss; that we seldom never notice or pay much attention:

THE LIGHTS CAME ON

The priest ended with the ‘Our Father’ and led everyone through the “Hail Mary” before turning it back over to me for some final thoughts and a Benediction.

“H   E    Y !”  I shouted. . .”WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?”  I reminded this group that we just literally became a different group.  Sad, YES.  Hurt, YES.  Disillusioned, YES! but a different group.  Here, on one of the most brutal, DARKEST moments in their lives, they had come together to celebrate a special person who had suddenly, tragically been taken from each of them and in that inky Blackness, the lights literally came on.

I reminded this group of LOVERS what I’m reminding you and others before, one of our biggest flaws in life is that we don’t always recognize what we notice and for their family member and friend I wasn’t going to let that happen for this 24 year old young man.  Some were now laughing instead of crying stating the obvious, “He said we would never hear the last of him!”  hey.  .  .HEY!

Aren’t these the questions we ask at times like this: WHY?  HOW COME?  WHAT FOR?  And then right in the middle of all those questions we also have to ask, as the lights literally came on in this darkness, WHY?  HOW COME?  WHAT FOR?  How come why what for Do we have these THE LIGHTS COME ON kind of moments where we literally see resurrections are all around us and don’t notice them.

Psssssssssssssssssssssst:  There is no deaths that last forever.  No death that hasn’t been followed by a resurrection. Go ahead step outside. I dare you to look at the green grass. I dare you to look at the flowers that are blooming and all their colors. I dare you to listen to the birds that are filling the trees as they sprout their leaves.

Maybe the lights
ARE NEVER OFF
we just don’t have eyes
O     P      E       N       E       D
wide enough
to see
to notice
to recognize.          .            .
hey,
H          E         Y

BOO BOO’S

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T         E         A         R         S
it seems like the one thing that the World and all of its inhabitants actually universally share, no mater who we are or how tough or weak we think we are
e    s    p    e    c    i    a    l    l    y
when someone we love dies.          .          .

This past week I was doing a funeral for an elderly man who had no immediate family, but he had cousin-in-laws and their families who came to celebrate his life.

I’ve long believed that the thing about weddings and now funerals, is that the the only thing that’s traditional about either of them, is that there is nothing traditional about either of them anymore.  No two day visitations and the third day a funeral.  A lot of the funerals that I conduct (usually 26 a month) sometimes are months down the road, (like the two I already have scheduled the day after Thanksgiving)

This particular funeral had the person having died three weeks ago, but it was the only time everyone could actually come together because of out of town circumstances.  There were less than 15 people attending, including the 6 children of various ages.

I was tempted to just have us literally circle the chairs and just talk about “George.”  There was no a somber tone to the service especially with the little ones literally running around and just as I finished the short welcome and opening prayer, 2 and 1/2 yr old Xavier comes running over to me, full sprint with arms open wide and jumps up into my arms.  Mind you, I’ve never met this family or this little guy.  There was a gasp from the family and then laughter as he shouted out, “I LOVE YOU!”

My service towards to him as I told him how happy I was that he was there and that I got to meet him.  As he wiggled out of my arms he reached into his pocket and pulled out a mangled band-aid and put it on my shoe
And he before I could thank him, he told me if was for my Boo Boo and then hugged my leg and said, “ALL BETTER”

The reaction was mixed horrified but mostly laughter.  How could you not “Ahhhhh” that?

Before we finished the celebration of “George” Xavier was back in my arms waving at everybody which ended with a loud  B E L C H.          .          .
G       R       I       E       F
comes to us in so many different ways,
NOT  ALWAYS  SAD
In his own way,
Xavier taught us a valuable lesson
that the famous poet, Robert Frost
once tried to share with us long ago
when he said that all he knows about life can be summed up in 3 words:
“IT GOES ON”

When Xavier’s parents and grandparents came up to me following the service, red-faced and apologetic, I thanked them for BRINGING Xavier instead of having him at home or back at the hotel with a babysitter, to prove again, LIFE GOES ON as it does.  He showed us all that we walk around with Boo Boo’s that may not be in need of band-aids so much as hugs that make us feel, “ALL BETTER”

.             .            .on the way home, band-aid still on my shoe, I thought, when’s the last time I BROUGHT that and grateful then and now, that Xavier, my small
Caring Catalyst friend,
D          I          D

THE FUNERAL

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No matter what religion or spiritual path you follow (or don’t), there’s one topic that fascinates us all:What happens after we die?

Reincarnation? Eternal Heaven? Total blackness and non-existence? Something totally different?

No matter what we believe though, there’s a few basic facts about death that we all know to be true.

The first fact of death is the obvious:
We’ve all been born with a sexually transmitted disease
called: LIFE
and none of us gets out of here
A  L  I  V  E

YES.   .   . we are all going to die. Yes, every single person on this planet is going to die someday, somehow, somewhere.

The second fact is less obvious:

After we die, our lives will be etched in the hearts of others. We live eternally. Forever. In other people.

That’s what today’s video is really about.

It’s about the relationships we forge during our lives that are so powerful they impact people even after we die.

Today’s movie is called “The Funeral.” It starts with a little bit of humor, and it quickly goes deep and gets to the heart of the matter.  .  .a heart that beats like no other when filled with a love that death can’t begin to part let alone forget.     .     .

SO HERE’S THE DEAL:

THE DEEPER YOU LOVE
THE DARKER YOU HURT
so.          .          .
LOVE DEEPER, STILL
LOVE DEEPER, MORE
L                   O                  V                  E     

The Funeral That Wasn’t, WAS

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images-3

It happens you know?

We die many Deaths before the one that actually stops our hearts,

silences our minds and completes un-whispered thoughts

with the promise of not one more inhaled breath.        .        .

W  E    D  I  E.        .        .

I did just a few hours ago.      .       .

I was actually working on this post

(WELL, ANOTHER ONE BEFORE THE PHONE CALL)

when my Cell phone rang.     .     .

I noticed it was the number of a Funeral Home.      .      .

(Some   have   me   on   Speed   Dial)

The words he said

are words that literally make me wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat?

“WHERE      ARE      YOU      AT?”

I was planning to do a memorial service for a family on FRIDAY NIGHT

and they and the Funeral Director

decided to change it to a night earlier—-

WITHOUT       TELLING       ME!

Let’s get something straight,

right away—a Confession of sorts—

The Writer and the Reader of this Blog

ARE      NOT      PERFECT.        .        .

THEY make Mistakes—-

lots   of   them!

With my heart still pounding

(for something that wasn’t my fault this time)

just a mere 15 minutes before the service was to begin,

I told him I could throw my suit on and get to his place within a half-an-hour.       .       .

(I was able to do it in 27 minutes)

When I arrived,

I met her husband of 57 years

and her children

and after apologizing for me being late,

we began the service.        .       .

My heart had been successfully resuscitated.        .        .

It beats best when I speak. . .

when I do Services.        .        .

under pressure.       .       .

I can’t rightly explain

H  O  W   it’s a Gift;

I just know   T H A T   it’s a Gift

and it’s when I absolutely feel most alive,

B U T.           .           .

that’s not really what this Post is about at all.        .        .

Sometimes the worst deaths

take place way before our hearts stop beating.      .      .

When we make mistakes.         .         .
When we don’t own mistakes.         .         .
When we hurt another.         .         .
When we’re hurt by another.          .          .
When prayers aren’t answered and dreams realized.          .          .
When disappointments taunt and unfulfilled anticipations haunt.         .         .
When steps have been taken but lead to seemingly nowhere.         .         .
When Hope is just a Window dressing for Denial.         .         .
When Tears are the Worst Seasoning ever tasted.         .         .
When Shame is Worn more often than Success.          .          .
When Weariness is stronger than Worthiness.          .          .
When___________________.          .          .

What’s      your      Greatest      Fear ?

What’s the thing that makes you wake up

in the middle of the night in that Cold Sweat?

What     S T O P S     your  Heart ?

Open Graves are always a danger for Living

U       N       L       E       S       S

We intentionally bury that which has no Life,       .       .

NO Living in us.        .        .

Some things in us just need to be

G          O          N          E !

It was  S U P P O S E  to be tomorrow night.          .          .

We have many

S       U       P       P       O       S       E  ‘  S

in our Lives that take on Lives of their own—

EXCEPT.         .         .

they are not  R E A L.        .        .

THEY  only feel   THAT   way!

The Funeral that Wasn’t,

W  A  S—

I sat down beside the Widower after the Service

and he told me how great I was

and even after I apologized again for not being able to say what he really needed to hear,

he assured me that my words

were exactly what he needed

and couldn’t believe having not met him or his deceased wife of 57 years

how it  FELT  to him that I did.          .          .

I thanked him for Showing me

WHAT WORKS.           .           .

WHAT CAN’T BE BURIED.        .        .

Who.         .         .

who could imagine that Flowers can grow

without being planting first.         .         .        ?

One’s who see Open Graves

not as a Rut or a Tomb,

but just a another beautiful place

to grow Flowers and Plants.          .          .

(And Actually Use them as Such)

It’s a S H A M(E)

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junk_mail_pile_2

It’s almost become a thing of the past:

J  U  N  K      M  A  I  L

It’s almost a story no one would even notice or care about:

Richard’s

It’s almost a S H A M (E)

Funerals are a time to Remember.

Funerals are a time to Honor.

Funerals are a time to Celebrate.

It’s most likely why I really like,

yes actually enjoy,

conducting funerals.        .       .

I get to hear the most sacred thing in and out of this world:

S   T   O   R   I   E   S

I got to hear,

I got to facilitate,

I got to tell Richard’s story.        .        .

And now,

now like you,

m a y b e.          .          .

I get to tell,

I get to share,

I get to Celebrate,

I get to Honor,

I get to RE-Member it

He was an Everyone/No One.       .       .

You wouldn’t find him going viral on YouTube

or blowing up Twitter;

He’s not going to be a  SHARE

on anyone’s Facebook page.     .     .

He had no LinkedIn Account.          .          .

or none that  ANY  would bother to observe.      .      .

Richard won’t make the front page of any newspaper

or the top story of any newscast.       .       .

He’s the father or an estranged son,

a brother of a disgruntled sister,

an uncle of a needy, not always grateful niece

and a   f r i e n d

to anyone who ever sent out any kind of junk mail

promising to make you a millionaire for a mere,

new reduced price of $99,

or to feed a child for $5.99 a day,

or to provide clean water,

warm blankets,

medical care for $25 a month or.         .         .

Well you fill in the ________________________________________.

The more Richard responded, the more mail he would get
A  S  K  I  N  G,
P  L  E  A  D  I  N  G,
I  M  P  L  O  R  I  N  G.        .        .

He had three mountains of such requests around his chair.      .      .

ONE for Denying.        .        .
ONE for Considering.        .        .
ONE for Giving. . .his biggest pile by far.       .       .

You are reading this next sentence right:

HE   BORROWED   MONEY   TO   GIVE   AWAY   WHEN   HE   HAD   GIVEN   AWAY   ALL   OF   HIS   OWN

You are reading this next sentence right:

HE   WAS   FOUND   A   WEEK   OR   SO   AFTER   HIS   DEATH   IN   HIS   HOUSE   WHEN   THE   POST-OFFICE   IN HIS   SMALL   TOWN   HAD   MOUNDS   OF   UN-PICKED   UP   MAIL   AND   THOUGHT   SOMETHING   STRANGE AND   INVESTIGATED   DISCARDED   AND   DECAYING   LIKE   THE   PILES   OF   MAIL   SURROUNDING   HIM

He received   FIVE TIMES   the amount of junk mail on the day of his funeral than people attending.         .         .

This man who just didn’t   G  I  V  E,  but

G  A  V  E         W  A  Y,

W A Y,

W A Y      U P.        .        .

up to a place

he dreamed on this earth

that would benefit family and friends

who long abandoned him,

but never the  INVISIBLE HAND  that kept reaching out to him

until it clutched his throat

and strangled him long before his death.       .       .

Was it Compassion?

Was it Love?

Was it Care and Concern?

Was it for some secret Redemption?

Was it a bargaining to get to some Heavenly Post-Office-Place?

Was it Blind stupidity?

Was it ultimately necessary?

What a S H A M (E), huh?

In more than just, both ways.         .        .

One person’s Heaven might be another’s Hell.         .         .

In Richard’s Heaven,

there would be

M A I L—-Lots of it—-

All handled carefully and respectfully and most of all:

A     L     L             A     N     S     W     E     R     E     D!

P I C K ‘ E D

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images-3

What would be your

CHOSEN SYMBOL?

What would be what others would pick as your

CHOSEN SYMBOL?

Would they be the same?

Earlier this week, I conducted the funeral of a 49 year old man who had been killed in a motorcycle accident.

He was a hard worker. . .

had three current jobs that he loved

at a eclectic retail store

a Harley-Davidson dealership

and a Guitar Store.

He had more friends attending than room that could comfortably hold them.

He leaves behind a wife, a step-son, a brother, his mom and dad and several nieces and nephews.

There were many stories shared during the Celebration of his life.

There were countless pictures on numerous picture boards all around the lobby and the rooms where his service was held.

There were appropriate favorite songs played during the service

and then. . .

there were guitar picks that were handed out to each person that came to celebrate his life as each person took their leave.

“We know the old cliche, don’t we. . .but not all cliches are completely accurate, are they?  You can PICK your friends, you can PICK your nose, but you can’t PICK your family. . .you, just by being here to remember, celebrate and honor have to know, even stronger than the grief you are feeling and expressing, that you each were PICKED; and out of all of the places that you could be, maybe even would rather be, this is the one place you can’t help but to be. . .the place that YOU PICKED TO BE.     .     .     .”

I’ve seen

lottery scratch off tickets

poker chips

playing cards

slot-machine tokens

fishing bobbers

candy canes

candy bars

little shot bottles of many different assorted liquors

cigars

cigarettes

lifesavers

flowers

forget-me-not-flower-seeds

balloons

pens

bubblegum

cough-drops

feathers

little blue pills (seriously)

What would be your

CHOSEN SYMBOL?

What would be what others would pick as your

CHOSEN SYMBOL?

Would it be a joke?

Would it be very sincere and serious?

Would it be expensive?

Would it be self-explanatory?

Would it be easily discarded?

Would it be treasured?

Would it be explained?

Would it be personal?

Would it be loving?

Would

It

Be 

Necessary?

Under-DOSED

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In the past two years, deaths from heroin overdoses doubled in the U.S. according to a new report from the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention.

“THEY” say one of the biggest reasons for the increase is because prescription pills like hydrocodone and oxycodone can go as much as $40 a pill whereas a small bag of heroin can sell for about $10.

I’m not all that surprised. I’ve done several CELEBRATION Services for those who are apart of that statistic.

Sad part?

T H E Y

ARE NOT A NUMBER. . .a STATISTIC.

T H E Y

are real people…real people of all ages…real people of all socio-ethinic groups…real people of all ages…real people of sexual orientations…real people of all socio-economic classes…

REAL PEOPLE.

Drew was two day short of being two years sober and drug free.

No one knows what happened. . .but an overdose was apparent without a Coroner’s Report.

‘GOD, GRANT ME THE SERENITY TO ACCEPT THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE
THE COURAGE TO CHANGE THE THINGS I CAN
AND THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.’

“The Serenity Prayer” by Reinhold Niebuhr was read in unison as we began the Celebration Service for Drew. It’s become one of the most widely known prayers in the world. It touches people’s hearts from all walks of life.

“. . .LIVING ONE MOMENT AT A TIME;
ACCEPTING HARDSHIPS AS THE PATHWAY TO PEACE;
TAKING, AS HE DID, THIS SINFUL WORLD
AS IT IS, NOT AS I WOULD HAVE IT;
TRUSTING THAT HE WILL MAKE ALL THINGS RIGHT
IF I SURRENDER TO HIS WILL;
THAT I MAY BE REASONABLY HAPPY IN THIS LIFE
AND SUPREMELY HAPPY WITH HIM
FOREVER IN THE NEXT.
AMEN.”

. . .is how the rest of Niebuhr’s prayer goes/concludes.

WE

read that in unison, too, to end the service before Tim McGraw’s song, “BETTER THAN I USE TO BE.”

W O R D S

…words on a page….

But a Heart shouts what a mouth can never whisper.

You can’t take a photograph of a mom and dad, a sister and two brothers sitting in the first row and prove the cliche:

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND OF WORDS

. . .not even 1000 x 1,000,000,000

One by one, father, brother, friend after friend came forward and told a story, shared a brief
‘once-upon-a-time,’ a ‘Remember-when,’ a choked out, ‘I love you,’ a couple of words: “Good-Bye” and “Thank-You.”

More than a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a uncle, a friend, a counselor, a sponsor, a dog-lover, a alcoholic, a drug addict, an Overdose, a dead man. . .Drew was first and foremost:

L O V E D

“SOME SAY”

he never GOT IT. . .

…THAT he could have overdosed on L O V E

and WE. . .

it’s major DEALERS!

Maybe. . .maybe he was UNDERdosed…maybe WE all are….

IT’S THE THOUGHT THAT DANCED AROUND IN MY MIND

as Tim McGraw’s song ended The Celebration:

“YOU AIN’T GOTTA DIG TOO DEEP, IF YOU WANNA FIND SOME DIRT ON ME…BUT I’M LEARNING WHO YOU WERE AIN’T WHO YOU’VE GOT TO BE…I’VE PINNED A LOT OF DEMONS TO THE GROUND, I’VE GOT A FEW OLD HABITS LEFT, BUT THERE’S STILL ONE OR TWO I MIGHT NEED YOU TO HELP ME GET. STANDING IN THE RAIN SO LONG HAS LEFT ME WITH A LITTLE RUST…BUT PUT SOME FAITH IN ME AND SOMEDAY YOU’LL SEE THERE’S A DIAMOND UNDER ALL THIS DUST…I AIN’T NO ANGEL, I’VE STILL GOT A FEW MORE DANCES WITH THE DEVIL. I’M CLEANING UP MY ACT LITTLE BY LITTLE. I’M GETTING THERE, I CAN FINALLY STAND THE MAN IN THE MIRROR I SEE…I AIN’T AS GOOD AS I’M GONNA GET, BUT I’M BETTER THAN I USED TO ME…”

THEY SAY. . .it’s a Pandemic. . .

SOME SAY. . .it’s exactly what’s needed…person by person, one by one. . .

l o v e…

Love won’t cure any disease or distress. . .LOVE CURES NOTHING!

LOVER’S DO

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man