Family Man

Grace and Peace at the End of Life

Just because I was born
precisely here or there,

in some cold city or other,
don’t think I don’t remember
how I came along like a grain
carried by the flood—
~ Mary Oliver

The last days of our lives, whether several years or just a few weeks, are as different, mine from yours, as the number of us who will stand before that tunnel of light, our entire lives billowing behind us like Christo’s Running Fence.

And then again, the moment of death is the same for everyone.  Each of us will know the rhythm of the liver and the kidney and the heart, shutting down one by one.  Each of us will know the filling of our sails with that one last suck of wind.  Each will know the severing of that invisible umbilical that links the body to the soul. Continue reading

Gods of a Gay Childhood

The Thing About the Clear Heart

Thank you

A Priest’s Last Words to My Grandfather