Remembering Our Loved Ones in the Stillness of God’s Love

Oct 27

Fr. Ed and his mom at his Final Profession in 1988 at the Church of St. Joachim in Philadelphia.

Every November, the Church invites us to remember and pray for our beloved dead. For me, this season brings back a memory of my mother (Elizabeth “Betty” Ogden) - a moment that continues to comfort me nearly twenty-nine years after her death on December 3, 1997.

In November of that year, I spent a week with her as she prepared for surgery to have her leg amputated. Diabetes and poor circulation had taken a terrible toll. She was bedridden and had already endured four operations that year. The night before her surgery, I was sleeping on the sofa when she called me upstairs. She was shaking, perhaps from anxiety or the medication, and asked me to sit with her and rub her back. As I did, she said, “Ed, I’m ready to meet my maker.”

I was not ready to hear those words. My first instinct was to escape the conversation—to reassure her that everything would be fine. I wanted to remind her how strong she had been, tell her we would get through this together, and talk about the possibility of walking again. But something in my heart whispered: “Ed, be still.” My mother needed my presence.

In that moment, the most loving thing I could do was hold her. In the stillness, I became profoundly aware of how much I loved my mother and how much she loved me. And within that love, I recognized the presence of God. There were no easy answers about what lay ahead, but there was a deep assurance that we were held in a love greater than our fear. My mother died two weeks after her surgery. That night was the last time I held her in my arms.

During November, we bring such memories to prayer: a final conversation, a familiar laugh, a hand we once held. Sometimes these memories bring gratitude; sometimes they bring fresh tears. Often, they bring both. Faith gives us room for our sorrow while inviting us to entrust those we love to God’s mercy. As Catholics, we continue to love our deceased family members and friends through prayer. We remember them at Mass, speak their names, and ask the Lord to welcome them into the fullness of his life. Our communion in Christ reaches beyond death.

This month, I encourage you to make time to be still. Remember someone you love who has died. Offer a prayer. Request a Mass. Visit a cemetery or reach out to someone carrying the burden of grief.

That night with my mother taught me something I continue to learn—we do not always need the right words. Sometimes we are simply called to remain present and let love speak.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.