For about ten years, there was a post-it note on my music stand:
“Call Rose.”
Every week when the folk group gathered to practice the music for the upcoming Sunday Mass, we’d put the phone on speaker and call one of our friends from church whose health did not permit her to go to Mass.
We all had our reasons for our fondness for Rose. A longtime lector, she sat in the front pew for Sunday Masses and would always expect us to wave during the Sign of Peace. She welcomed some of us to the parish, and she was a Secular Franciscan with me.
“I pray for you every day,” she would say. “Each and every one of you.”
We counted on that. We knew she prayed for us all, by name.
So when Rose couldn’t come to Mass anymore, and our deacon (who brought the Eucharist to her every Sunday) let us know how much she missed the music, we decided to let her eavesdrop on rehearsals.
Rose was always happy to hear from us, and it was good to hear her voice. After some songs, she’d say, “Is that all?” and we’d ask if she had time to listen to more. Over the years, it became more difficult for her to hold the phone up to listen to more than three songs, but we kept calling and she kept listening. We’re not sure which songs were Rose’s favorite, because if we asked whether she’d liked something, she always said she did.
The last time we called Rose was August 13. She thanked us, as she always did. “Thank you for calling and singing to me.”
And we replied, as we always did: “Thank you for listening to our music!”
When Rose said she had to go, we all signed off the way we always did: “We love you, Rose!”
She said, “I love all of you too.”
And that was the last time we heard her voice. The next Wednesday afternoon, I got a call from another Secular Franciscan, Rose’s very dear friend, letting me know that Rose had suffered a terrible stroke.
So instead of calling, we prayed.
Rose passed away a week ago, and we’re waiting to find out the date for the funeral. But her family gave us a beautiful gift. They asked us to play for the funeral, and requested that we choose the music.
I don’t know Rose’s favorites, but I went through the hymnal and sent the music director a list of 23 possibilities. We’ll only get to do 5 or 6 of them, so I’m glad I’m the one who won’t have to make the final choice.
And when we do play and sing at that funeral, we’ll be telling Rose we love her, one last time.
Copyright 2025 Barb Szyszkiewicz
Images: Canva