May The Same Be Done For Me

This morning I went to a funeral. I did not personally know the deceased. He was a homeless man who often attended the 6:30 am daily Mass at St. Stephen the Martyr. Peter was his name. He died, fairly young, from complications of diabetes.

It was a sad thing that he died alone, on the streets. But that was not because he was unloved: there were a fair number of people who came to bury him today. Although none of them were his blood relations. The priest explained that there was no name, no number left to call, and Peter's family, if he had any, is most likely unaware that he has died.

If one day they do find out, hopefully it will give them some comfort to know that Peter had friends, and that the parish he was a part of in life took care of him in death.

It is a comfort to me.