146. Roger and Denny

Nora’s uncle, Roger, passed away at 95 years old last summer. Nora wasn’t able to be there for the ceremony, but she got a beautiful handwritten snapshot from her mom documenting the funeral.

Transcripts may not appear in their final version and are subject to change.

I’m Nora McInerny, and it’s going to be okay.

I come from a very large family. Both of my parents had eight siblings each, and most of those siblings procreated, and so when I say that I have over 50 first cousins I am not exaggerating. My dad was the youngest of nine, and his oldest brothers were getting married and having their own children when he was born. My dad and his brothers all served in the military, in the army, the navy and the marines, in World War 2, Korea, and Vietnam. That’s the kind of age gap we’re talking about here…one that spans multiple decades and wars.

This summer, my Dad’s brother Roger died at 95. He’d been married to his wife for over 73 years. Let that sink in. 

 If the last name didn’t tip you off, I grew up Irish Catholic. And there are certain things that Catholics do when a person dies, and before they die. Certain rites and rituals that prepare and send the soul from this realm to the next. 

I could not name them all, but I have been a part of them, and I have felt their comfort even when I didn’t really know what was going on. It’s hard not to feel something when someone is swinging incense around a beautiful cathedral, ya know?

And there was the funeral mass, of course, but the burial itself was at Fort Snelling, the military cemetery outside MInneapolis. Right next to the airport. Very peaceful. That’s where my dad is, and where my father-in-law Bill is. It’s where Roger’s son, also named Roger, is buried. A benefit of serving in the armed forces is that your burial — and your spouse’s — is taken care of. You get a plot. You get a simple headstone. You get…about 15 minutes at the gravesite before you gotta skedaddle because there are a lot of bodies to bury, frankly.

 And the people who work there are always, in my experience, very kind and respectful but they are also on a schedule. So whatever you want to do, you gotta do it quick.

Of that big family of nine children that my dad was the baby of, there are only four left. My aunts Mimi and Theresa. My uncles Maurice and Denny. 

I didn’t make it to Roger’s funeral in Minneapolis, which I of course would have loved to be at. And which, of course, sounds weird except that in a family the size of ours you really only see some people at weddings or at funerals and eventually, funerals get to be the more common gathering. And funerals might be my preferred gathering, to be honest. Because the music isn’t as loud, and it’s normal to just cry as hard as you want to, and nobody is trying to impress anybody. You get to just exist in your most human, vulnerable form. 

I wasn’t there.

But my mother sent me the prayer card and she sent me a note. She calls these — as you have heard if you’ve listened to the episode called Madge’s Snapshots — Snapshots.

So because I couldn’t be there, my mother wrote down a little snapshot for me.

It arrived via mail, in her beautiful handwriting. And warning, it might make you emotional, but overall, I wouldn’t share it if it wasn’t, in the end…also hopeful.

[TAPS PLAYS IN BACKGROUND]

Now, to the note: 

4 August 2023 

2:42 PM

91 degrees Fahrenheit, mostly cloudy.

Rogers burial at Ft. Snelling. At the shelter. The liaison welcomes us and reviews the order of events: first the flag ceremony with Navy personnel. When taps are played veterans and active duty service members are invited to salute. Everyone else – place your hand on over your heart.

Flag ceremony, a ritual in slow motion.

The navy NCOs in crisp blinding white uniforms.

Smoothing the corners to a point – each saluting the flag in turn. Then handing Lue a perfect triangle.

Taps.

Hands on hearts.

Denny — sitting on the bench, next to Theresa, Vivian and Lue. He very slowly stands. Salutes.If the priest had been present certain prayers would have been recited.

Denny took that role and very solemnly led the group.

When finished he took a small container of holy water from his pocket and repeated three times:

Eternal rest grant unto him, Oh ord. May perpetual light shine upon him and may he rest in peace.

Uncle Denny — getting his brother properly buried.

That’s the whole snapshot. Signed with a heart and my mother’s initials. And even though I wasn’t there, I can see it. I can see that kind of love as though it’s right in front of me. Not a goodbye for them, but a see you later, in that perpetual light and eternal rest.

OUTRO MUSIC

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