AS THE ORGAN BEGINS to play the processional and the congregation stands, I lead the Beckets down the aisle, thankful yet again for the wonder of the liturgy which provides us an anchor in times when we feel tossed about. I know that good ministers like Clark Applegate and others are able to come up with individualized funeral plans, but I am not one of those men. I am so thankful I don’t have to create anything in this most difficult time, but can rely on the words that have evolved across 2,000 years to give us comfort.
I take my place at the altar and begin the Mass, but as I look over the congregation, I see a forlorn Nate Rodriguez slip in the back and take a seat in the discrete little alcove where Helen used to sit before we were engaged. He certainly does not know the level of gri
