This past year, as I have prayed the Nicene Creed during the liturgy, that last phrase, “and I look forward to the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come,” has held particular, personal meaning for me.

In January of 2024, our oldest brother, Mike Roddy, died unexpectedly while our brothers, Pat and Jim, our sister, Susan, and her husband, Jim, and I were at Mike’s home in Huntsville, AL. Mike had been in poor health the last nine months of 2023 and during our family Christmas gathering we asked him if some of us could come to Huntsville and help him de-clutter his home and he agreed. Shortly before we left for Huntsville, we found out that Mike was in the hospital.

He was alert during our first visit, but he did not look good. Within forty-eight hours, Mike slipped into an unresponsive state. His kidneys and his liver had nearly shut down and we made the difficult decision not to proceed with any medical interventions; “please do your best to keep him comfortable and out of pain,” we told his care team.

We kept vigil with him as he prepared to leave this life for eternal life. Even though he could not respond, we knew that he could hear us and we told him how much he meant to each of us. Family members who could not be in Huntsville called, and said their good-byes, often through tears and sobs (Susan and Pat put all of them on speakerphone so that Mike could hear them more clearly).

When I said my good-bye, I told Mike that our Mom and Dad, and countless other family members and friends were preparing to welcome him to a new and eternal life. “They are all waiting to welcome you, Mike. Let go. Have no fear.”

The first time that I prayed the Nicene Creed after Mike’s death I prayed it with more conviction and meaning than ever. Through my sadness and heartache I knew that we would be reunited; I suppose I prayed it with the same conviction and hope that I prayed it after our Dad and Mom’s passing. I continue to pray those words with the conviction that I have not lost family members, friends, confreres and mentors; they are still a part of my life and I ask for their intercession countless times for things from the mundane to the serious. I feel their presence and their support.

As I prepared to make some remarks at the two Memorial Masses that we had for Mike, I remembered our unnamed brother, who none of us knew. He was my parents’ second child and he was stillborn. Our Mom had told me that we had a deceased brother as we were preparing to visit the cemetery on Memorial Day. I can still hear the heartache in my Mom’s voice as she tried to explain what happened. That moment came back to me as I prepared my reflection and I thought to myself, “Our brother was there to welcome Mike as well.”

For the next few months as I grieved Mike’s passing, I was drawn back to the memory of our stillborn brother again and again. In the Fall of 2024, our brother, John, took me to the cemetery to visit Mike’s grave and the nearby graves of our parents on All Saints Day. I asked John if we could visit the baby’s grave, which is in a different section of the cemetery. I had looked at his marker many, many times and it was only this time that I saw that he was born and died on October 3, 1946, the Transitus of St. Francis of Assisi. (Franciscans celebrate the passing of St. Francis on October 3rd, the day before his feast day.) Perhaps my brother guided me to the church of St. Francis Xavier on the campus of Saint Louis University on October 3, 1977 for that first encounter with my new Franciscan community?

Yes, I definitely look forward to that time, which lies outside of time, when I will be reunited with the many people who were and who continue to be such a blessing in my life. As you read this, I encourage you to offer a prayer of thanks for those men and women in your life you look forward to seeing again in “the life of the world to come.”