Dear Friends,
Linda called me from St. Louis last night. When her voicemail message said simply, “Please call me back,” I had a sinking feeling I knew why Linda was getting in touch. My suspicion was confirmed when I phoned her and her first words were, “Ray died Friday night.”
Ray was 99 years old and a member of the congregation in Missouri I served for a year. Linda sang in the choir; and, though she had divorced Ray’s son years ago, she remained very close to him. I visited Ray several times over the past year. He was still living at home with a full-time caregiver . . . a home filled with art, music, and a fat cat. Ray had a very soft voice, was hard of hearing and blind, but his blue eyes still twinkled when he spoke. He was always dressed in a nicely-pressed western-style shirt and wore a leather bolero necktie with a turquoise stone. He liked discussing books and telling stories about how he and his twin Roy would confuse their school teachers about who was who.
We might say that Ray lived a full life, making it to 99 years of age. Yet, I can’t help but think that Linda and others who knew him weren’t quite ready for him to go. Gentle spirits like Ray come into our lives like soft beams of light, illuminating for us what it means to live with simplicity and kindness towards others.
Linda said that Ray wanted his memorial held at his beloved senior community, so that others might easily be able to attend the service. I’ll be thinking about Ray this Sunday at our own “All the Souls” service where we’ll remember those we’ve loved and lost.
Thank you, Ray, for your lightness and light.
Yours,
Terry