Digital Marian Helper Winter_2019

I sat in Fr. Tom’s office in Immaculate Conception Church in Fairbanks, Alaska. The roomwas bright and simply decorated, which, under the circumstances, was enough to be comforting. “You’d like to request a Mass?” Fr. Tom asked. “Yes, for Ed Bermudez,” I said. “For repose.” “He was the director of the soup kitchen, wasn’t he?” I nodded. “How’d you know him?” In truth, I didn’t know Ed well. He was a colleague I saw sporadically at committee meetings. There are some people, though, who are so genuine and kind, the fact you don’t know when their birthday is or what their hobbies are seems irrelevant. Your brain automatically files them under “Friend.” That was Ed, a friend I barely knew. Two days earlier I had attended a meeting at the local food bank to discuss the problem of food accessibility. I was the voice for economic development, and Ed (who hadn’t arrived yet) represented the soup kitchen. “Did he say if he would be here?” I asked the food bank’s CEO. She met the gazes of the handful of people gathered. “Ed passed away last night. He — took his own life.” When I returned to my office, I pulled up Ed’s Facebook page. Already there were posts eulogizing him and send- ing condolences to his fiancée. But below those notes were twice as many visitor posts from the day before, all wish- ing Ed a happy birthday. The date was Nov. 13. No such thing as ‘unlucky’? His birth date — on the 13 th — got me thinking. What For a friend I barely knew By Samantha Reynolds 16 M arian H elper • W inter 2019-20 • marian . org