First of all, I want to be clear that this post is not about me. I am not fishing for sympathies, nor do I have any other ulterior motives. But as I post this, my family lays my Uncle Mickey to rest. He is the middle of three brothers, the other two being my Uncle Al who is the oldest, and my dad who is the youngest. In the main picture, he is on the right, my dad in the middle, and my Uncle Al on the left. It is not their only pose from my brother Mike’s wedding, but the only one I could post here. The other picture is of my Uncle Mickey with my Aunt Judy, which I shamelessly stole from Aunt Judy’s Facebook feed last night. Uncle Mickey entered eternal life on May 5th.
I have to admit I am saddened that I am not there, as I should be. I was told the services were yesterday, and that there were two of them. And then last night I was told there was another today. As a priest, I found all that a bit odd, so when I got home from the hospital at about 10:30pm I looked it up for myself. Those were visitations yesterday, and the funeral is right now. And had I taken responsibility for myself instead of being confused, I would be in New York right now. I cannot express how disappointed I am in myself, but confession is good for the soul, and the very fact that I will be making this a parallel post concurrent with his funeral, is an inadequate attempt to feel better. I wanted to be there because of who my Uncle Mickey has been to me my entire life.
As I said, with all the introductory remarks aside, the post is not about me. But TO me my Uncle Mickey was a giant of a man. I will turn 57 next month, and there has never been a time in my life that I do not remember him, and every single interaction, every single conversation, every single moment to me was a blessing. At my brother Mike’s wedding last year, Amanda and I were seated at a small family table that included my Uncle Mickey and Aunt Judy, along with my Uncle Al. I talked for days about what a high honor that was to me. At 56, somehow I still see myself at some kids table, but perhaps that was a time for lessons learned.
You see, I am old enough to remember two generations above them. “Pop,” my great-grandfather, and then my Uncles (great uncles, although all uncles are great) Wally and Bobby who were my grandfather’s brothers. I had met my grandfather, but he died in the 1960’s, so I have no memory of him…….but through all these men I really do.
You see, all of them taught me the importance of family, especially my Uncle Mickey. Every time I ever saw him he would tell me to come visit them in New York, every time there was a function out here in Indiana he and my Aunt Judy were here. You could not see him for some time, but when you saw him he treated you like you were never apart. He was straightforward and solid, always had a joke, and really probably more than any of the Tirmans I have ever known, taught me the importance of laughter. And for those of you who know me, you might realize I got more than my share there.
But Uncle Mickey’s steadfast profession of family and laughter to me also taught me that being a Tirman meant something. I have a lot of places in life where feel as if I do not belong. But one of the things always heard Uncle Mickey say was that “we’re family.” It is a lesson I have tried very hard to teach my kids. Getting Scotty to call my cousin Kenny (one of Uncle Mickey’s sons) when Scotty was stationed out in California in the Marine Corps was like convincing someone to go voluntarily get a root canal. Scotty had been invited and poked and prodded, and the first time he did go see Kenny and his wife, the Scotty called shortly thereafter and said, “Dad, it only took me about 10 seconds to see that they were family.” Go figure. I have not seen Kenny in years, but all of us can expect that from each other or our kids. And no one taught me better about that than my Uncle Mickey.
Oh there are countless funny stories, wonderful and sometimes inappropriate jokes, tons of laughter, and a great reason to celebrate a man who made sure we had all that. One of my favorites was Scotty and Stephanie going to New York to visit with my dad, Debby, and my sister Anna. There was a “disagreement” about who would get the more comfortable sleeping arrangement, Steph or Scott. They of course are siblings, so my Uncle Mickey intervened as asked Scotty to consider what if his sister was Jesus? They still crack up at the whole conversation, but a spoiler alert is that apparently Scotty did not care if his sister was Jesus, but will probably ask for forgiveness someday.
If I were there I would share the countless stories I have and listen to tons of others I did not know. And chances are I would be smiling and laughing all day. A funeral is meant to be a celebration of life, and when it comes to a life to celebrate, his was a good one. To me, he will remain one of the most influential people in my life.
And I guess that is part of why I am troubled in spirit about not being there by my own fault. But a passage came to my mind as I was driving into the hospital this morning, and ironically it is from the burial office. It is from John 14.
Jesus said, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Trust in God;[a] trust also in me. 2 In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?[b] 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. 4 And you know the way to where I am going.”[c] 5 Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” 6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
I cannot be troubled. Yes, I am saddened to not be there, but I am not troubled. Over the course of my vocation as a priest I have had countless, and deep conversations with my Uncle Mickey. Among my family, my conversations with him were never irreverent and always affirming. Being the only priest in a family known for its irreverence is both a blessing and a curse, but either way always fun, and a blessing to be a part of.
But more than anything, when my Uncle Mickey discontinued treatment, and resolved to let go of this life, I knew he was certain of what he was doing. His work in this life had come to its end, and he left much more to me and to others than he ever took. But beyond that, he also knew where he was going. He was no novice to faith, and my countless conversations prove that to me without a doubt. So I am saddened, yet I also rejoice, for death is not the end of his story, but a new chapter. And one day I know I will see him again.
Today, however, I pray for my family and wish I were with them. I thank God for my Uncle Mickey and for who he has been in this life. I pray for my Aunt Judy, and all my cousins and their children……for my whole family, each and every one of them. Blessings to you my dear Uncle, and may your soul, and the souls of all the Faithful Departed rest in peace.
Faithfully,
Tommy+