Saturday, April 17, 2010

Always

Leo, our brave and beautiful child, our big brother: We miss you. We love you.
Momma, Daddy, Rory and Danni

Here in the comments is Matt Quinn's lovely eulogy for Leo from last year's service.
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  1. UnknownApril 18, 2010 at 11:07 PM

    Eulogy for Leo Mackey
    Rooke Chapel
    Bucknell University
    April 25, 2009
    Matthew J. Quinn

    Why?

    That was what I asked my mother as a child whenever my world went wrong.

    Why?

    My mother grew up on a farm in Northern Ireland about a hundred years ago. She was the 10th of 13 children and never finished grade school. But she sensed the frail uncertainty of life as she watched her youngest brother, the 13th child, die and then, much later in life, have her own son, my youngest brother, die in childbirth.

    She knew that there was no easy answer, that we could never really know why.

    Yet, when I asked Why, she always answered: God suits the back to the burden.

    God suits the back to the burden.

    I had no idea what that meant then. I have no idea what it means now. The mention of God, however, somehow quieted me as a child, but didn’t satisfy me.

    I also remember puzzling over the word “suits” since I wondered what God had to do with clothing.

    Over the past several weeks, we have kept pace with the pregnancy on Pete’s blog. Almost three weeks ago now, we rejoiced with Kyna and Pete at the birth of Leo, Rory and Dani. This week, Rebecca Stover, one of our colleagues at the Foundation and a close friend of Pete, came to my office to tell me that Pete had just called.

    She told me: Pete just called. He said: My boy died.

    He said: My boy died.

    My boy died.

    Why?

    I thought of my mother again, not the mother of my childhood, but rather the mother of my adulthood. My other brother had died of a heart attack when he was 45. And my mother asked me Why?

    I had no answer. I didn’t think she could accept one or understand one or even wanted one. And I did not mention God or backs or burdens.

    I said, I don’t know.

    And she said, A son shouldn’t die before his mother.

    Why?

    All I could do was hold her.

    Pete, Kyna, your family, your friends—we all hold you and your girls in our hearts.

    Leo, Rory and Dani are the love you have for each other. For 32 weeks, Kyna, you held Leo within you. He heard the daily beating of your heart and knew you loved him. Pete, you held him in your arms, you spoke to him, you changed his diaper, you gave him his name. He heard love in your voice, felt love in your hands.

    We know so little about time and the soul. Leopold Bloom’s long day dallied on trivial musings and meanderings. Leo Mackey’s brief life ought not be measured in length of days but in depth of days. His were charged with an intense will to live. You saw that in his eyes, in his response to your voices. Although the fullness of his time may have been brief by our reckoning, I believe it dove deeper than can ever plummet sound.

    Leo Mackey is blessed to have you as parents. Blessed because, in his brief life, he has known only love. We should all be that lucky.

    And Rory and Dani now have another guardian angel. So, with him as their angel and you, Pete, as their father, God help the poor boys who date your daughters.

    As you think of Leo in the years ahead – and you will, every day – he will be listening. The pain of your loss will ease somewhat, believe me. But, you will always still wonder Why. Listen. In language beyond words, in thoughts beyond speaking, he will tell you. He will always love you. He will always be with you.

    God bless Leo Francis Mackey.

    Amen. Alleluia, alleluia.

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