Stop all the clocks - Epilogue

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Stop all the clocks” That’s how WHAuden opens his “Funeral Blues.” By which of course he meant: turn off your cell phones! Tweet your last tweet, post your last post; it can wait. Unless you have crippling ADHD or whatever it is where you by medical necessity must be on silence but connected; it can wait. Consider it an invitation to be here now. 

—Mary Oliver

To live in the world you must be able to do three things: To love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; And, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.

We have loved him, we have held him close, and through this hour may we come to a deeper truth, deeper understanding, deeper experience of what it means to let him go.

We are here to remember James Benjamin McConnell, friend, co-worker, family, uncle, father, son, brother, husband. I’m Rev. David McFarland from Allegheny Unitarian Universalist Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. If the last name is familiar, it’s ok. I’m Sandy’s brother; Jim, my brother-in-law.

We are here to remember Jim. It’s an impossible task, really: In the span of less than an hour to remember a life, a life of someone who lived so fully, loved so deeply and so well, and was so well loved. Yet this is what we have.

Seneca “In the presence of death, we must continue to sing the song of life. We must be able to accept death and go from its presence better able to bear our burdens and to lighten the load of others… Though we grieve the deaths of our loved ones, we accept them and hold on to our memories as precious gifts. Let us make the best of our loved ones while they are with us, and let us not bury our love with death.”

*Repair the crazy quilt of life.* (whip stitch, whole section, rent in two) Strong for each other: reaching out & pulling in. So when life gets cold, we can be warmed by this crazy quilt; and warm one another, holes, patches, and all.

We are here because of Jim, let's remember: So this can't be too stuffy, too formal, too maudlin; and, in accordance with the deceased’s wishes, “not too churchy” (too bad for him his brother-in-law is a minister); and it's gotta be intense, too; and it’s gotta be about what's real.  —A. Powell Davies

Let us be honest with death. Let us not pretend that it is less than it is. It is separation. It is sorrow. It is grief. But let us neither pretend that death is more than it is. It is not annihilation. As long as memory endures, his influence will be felt. It is not an end to love—humanity’s need for love from each of us is boundless. It is not an end to joy and laughter—nothing would less honor one so vibrant than to make our lives drab in counterfeit respect! Let us be honest with death, for in that honesty we will understand him better and ourselves more deeply.

Prayer:
So at the risk of getting too churchy, this is a prayer that I read when I married my sister… and Jim… together… to each other. Seemed appropriate to read the prayer here, at this final rite of passage. So please enter with me into a spirit of prayer: “Above you are the stars; below you the stones. As time does pass, remember... Like a start your love should be constant. Like a stone your love should be firm. Be close, yet not too close. Have patience each with the other, for storms will come, but they will go quickly. Be free in giving of affection and warmth, love often, and be tender with one another. Have no fear, for the Spirit is with you, now and always. Amen.”

The family, Sandy, and I thank you for being here. One of Jim’s sisters, Mary, and her husband Brian are here from Iowa where next month there will be a scattering of ashes, and Sandra will be present there. For now, we’ll share a little more music and hear reflections on Jim’s life. Ted Van Huisen is a co-worker that Sandra asked to share from Jim’s work life, and he will also read a eulogy put together by Jim’s brother and sisters; Mary Thompson will share her thoughts as a long time friend who long ago became one of Sandy’s sisters; I’ll close & offer the Benediction; Then maybe we’ll linger in the lobby; tell more stories; laugh and maybe cry a little more; and understand him and ourselves more deeply, be strengthened for the journey ahead, leave this hour behind, but not the love. “Faith, hope, and love abide; but the greatest of these is love.” But only “Love never dies.”

Heart opening. Letting go. Saying goodbye. (Mary Oliver's three things: love what is mortal, hold it close, when it comes time to let it go…) 

Jim & Sandra's vows: “I pledge to you a life of giving and hoping, a life of growing and loving. I shall share with you both my work and my play. I shall be with you in your tears and in your laughter, just as I bring to you my own sorrows and my own joys. I accept you to be the partner of my days, and pledge to you my honor, faith, and love.”

—ANWhitehead: The secret of happiness lies in knowing this: that we live by the law of expenditure. We find the greatest joy, not in getting, but in expressing what we are… The happy person is the one who lives the life of love, not for the honors it may bring, but fór the lífe itsélf.

In the Garden by Randy Travis

Eulogy:

James Benjamin McConnell was born on May 6, 1960 at the Mercy Hospital in Council Bluffs, Iowa, to James and Alice McConnell. He was the first of four siblings; Pat, Michael and Mary, all somewhat close in age. 

They lived in Council Bluffs until 1964 when the family moved to Arion, Ia. James attended the Dow City Arion Community School. His favorite sport was track. Although he was short, he could fly over those hurdles. He also ran sprints and long jump and went to the state level to compete on several occasions. He played trombone in the band for multiple years where he became first chair, and played ironman football.

He met his best friend, Flint Smith at the age of 16. They got their first job together at Boyer Valley Rendering. Then they got their first car together, a 2 door impala, his pride and joy! Out of school he enjoyed camping, fishing, and hunting with his family, with a trip to Canada as a memorable one. He loved hunting, working on his cars and riding motorcycles, while working at Joe Marts steak house.

After graduation, in 1978, James enlisted into the Air Force, where he was stationed in Fort Worth, Texas – at Carswells AFB. After he left the Air Force he went to work for Gateway Computers in Sioux City, Iowa. He then went on to start a family with Carrie Svoboda and in 1985 was blessed with a son James Robert (Bobby) McConnell. He decided to build his knowledge of computers and began traveling the states looking for the perfect place to learn as much as he possibly could about computers. Boston, Massachusetts was his destination, working at Sybase where he met the love of his life and soul mate, Sandra McFarland.  She told him she would not date anyone she worked with so he quit and started working for Coopers & Lybrand.

Sandra and Jim married in September if 1997 and made their home in Santa Clara, California. Jim loved working to make their house a home, adding a home theater, and outdoor ‘pergola on steroids’ and tending a beautiful and prolific garden.  Jim later went on to work for BearingPoint, Ernst & Young and finally at Slalom Consulting, a smaller firm that matched well with Jim’s energy and style. 

Jim also loved traveling with Sandra to historic and beautiful places, visiting Hawaii, Yosemite, Washington DC, Gettysburg and last summer they cruised to Alaska.  When they weren’t working on their home or traveling, James could be found with his other passion, his Honda S2000CR.  He loved that car. When he was diagnosed with cancer, he vowed to drive ‘his baby’ to every doctor’s appointment, and he did.  After traveling to a CR meet in Southern California this past summer, Jim and his passion for cars made such an impression on the CR community, that they established a memorial ride in his honor at next year’s meet-up.
 
Ted

Jim and I met at BearingPoint about 10 years ago. One of my first jobs there was helping Jim out with one of his projects in Novato. I live in San Francisco, which was on Jim’s way so he would pick me up and we would commute together for an hour each way to and from Novato. It would be dark when he would pick me up and I was always half asleep. My wife, Jenny, would ask me, “what do you guys do? Listen to the radio or something?” I would say, “no, not the radio, I listen to the Jim McConnell show!” It was far more interesting and entertaining than anything on the radio and it would wake you up better than any cup of coffee. By the time we would cross the Golden Gate Bridge each morning, I would be awake and engaged. We would talk about work, our personal lives, our hobbies, and stories from the past, including military experience. I always looked forward to driving with him and I quickly got used to Jim’s upbeat and energetic attitude. And in all of the miles we logged, I never heard him say a mean thing about anyone and any hint of complaining was always paired with a big dose of levity and humor.

Another thing I learned early in our work partnership was how selfless and generous Jim was with the people he worked with. At the time, I was working hard to make the case for a big promotion and it was hard, as the new kid, to get opportunities to shine. But Jim made my mission his mission and was quick to give any credit for our accomplishments to me and he would always talk me up to anyone who would listen. When I finally did get my promotion, I felt like I made it riding on Jim’s shoulders and he was just as enthusiastic about my promotion as I was. Jim and I ended up working together for three consulting companies and working side by side on several engagements. Through all of that work, I always saw him buoy and lift up his team mates and clients, alike. In an industry built largely on ego, Jim was one of the most selfless and generous guys I knew. It was his style.

So today, I am not here today to say goodbye to Jim, only “see you later.” I will continue to bring him to every tough client meeting that I have, every coaching session, and every long commute. He will always be my comrade, my mentor, and my friend. And some day when I see him on the other side, the first beer is on me.

Mary

My name is Mary Thompson and I have been a good friend of Sandy’s since high school.  I’m part of a group of women affectionately known by our husbands as “the coven”.  We’re not witches~ but we’ve been called worse. 

While preparing to speak today, I tried to remember when I first met Jim.  I realized that I can’t remember the exact moment…it seems to me as if Jim has always been here and always been a part of Sandy’s life.  What I do remember is how I felt about him on meeting him.  Sandy and I had a running joke, well, half-joke, half-superstition about the longevity of her relationships based on my feelings regarding her boyfriends.  If I liked her boyfriends on meeting them, the relationship was sure to be doomed to last no longer than six months.  If, however, I didn’t like her boyfriend they would stay together a long, long time. After meeting Jim I was sad.  I liked him.  When I told Sandy the verdict she told me that he was going to be the exception, and he was.  He broke the curse once and for all. 

What struck me on getting to know Jim was his big, open heart.  He embraced Sandy’s friends as his friends, Sandy’s family as his family and even her dog, Bodie became his dog, too.  They moved into a home in the Bay Area and began their lives together in California. 

One time, on my birthday, I showed up on their doorstep in tears.  I was going through a break-up and it was not going well.  I had probably only known Jim a few months at that point, but I was in crisis and need of my friend.  Jim immediately went into “damage control” mode.  He indicated to Sandy that she was to stay with me and deal with all the tears and histrionics and he would take care of everything else.  Within minutes he appeared with a glass of wine, snacks on a tray and sat down and began to tell stories with us about break-ups he’d been through and times he’d started over and soon we were all laughing.  Well, maybe I wasn’t laughing, but he sure did lighten the mood.   This is one thing I will always remember about Jim, he had a assessing the situation and tailoring the story to the need; he could lighten any mood with a story.  The other thing was that I never for one minute felt that I wasn’t welcome, tears and all, at their home.

We lovingly refer to Jim as the “Man of Action”.  Sandy would no more need to express minor frustration with some aspect of their home than he would be on his way to Home Depot.  He’d return in half and hour with everything he’d need to fix the problem and before three hours had passed she’d have the offending object reworked to full efficiency.  Over time she learned to be judicious with her frustrations or her home would soon become like the Winchester Mystery House as Jim would “keep building” until he had reached perfection.  He always wanted her life to be easy and he was the man who could make that happen.   I often enjoyed the tour of excellence when I’d visit and he would proudly show me all the improvements he had made since the last time I’d been there.

He was a gracious and generous host and would proudly cook for me when I’d visit and often when Sandy, Linda, Kathy and I would go out, he’d even have the hot tub going and champagne on ice when we’d return.  He liked to see what needed doing and then to do it, and he’d take pleasure in the looks of surprise at what he had so thoughtfully done. 

Jim’s open heart and his “man of action” tendencies extended beyond his own home.  He could be found up and down the street, leaning over cars or boats or motorcycles helping the owners identify just where that sound was coming from or how to best fix this one thing right over here.  When he’d see someone in need he’d show up with his know how, his tools and a cold beer for each man present.

Jim enjoyed watching movies and his home theatre set up is a thing of beauty to a movie lover.  The DVDs surround the room and he was always happy to have someone pull up a seat and watch something with him.  He loved technology and loved upgrading his system.  We joke that Sandy will be sitting in front of the home theatre watching movies on a laptop because there are just too many buttons and dials to the entire system.  In reality, I think, each button pushed and dial turned will be an opportunity to remember Jim and all the ways he brought entertainment into her life. 

Jim showed a fierce determination and his indomitable spirit in his fight against cancer.  He approached it with both conventional and alternative treatments and if will was the only determinant of the outcome, he’d still be with us.  He revealed to us the depth of his character, his deep love for his wife and a writing ability that we got to see too little of.   Sandy and Jim shared through the blog a glimpse at a life well lived, a love well expressed and a death with dignity. 

My life is richer for having known him.  

“Conscientious Objector,” Edna St. Vincent Millay: I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death. I hear him leading his horse out of the stall: I hear the clatter on the barn-floor. He is in haste; he has business in Cuba (Venezuela), business in the Balkans (Afghanistan), many calls to make this morning. But I will not hold the bridle while he cinches the girth. And he may mount by himself: I will not give him a leg up. Though he flick my shoulders with his whip, I will not tell him which way the fox ran. With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where the black boy hides in the swamp. I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.

It is an impossible task. In the span of less than an hour to celebrate Jim, someone who lived so fully, loved so well, and was so well loved. Yet this is what we have. This, too, is part of life: That we live; That we love; And when a loved-one dies, that we mourn--the tribute we pay for having loved so well. And this, too, is part of life; that we live on, blessed, enriched, and a little more whole.

I knew him as a brother-from-another-mother; and I hope my sisters won't take offense because none is meant, but he was the big brother I never had. Who arrived a little late. And left a little early. But he was there. And made it here in my heart. 

Jim lived his life soaked in the spirit of improbably extravagant generosity. He worked and played and prayed to leave each encounter, each moment, each relationship, each job, and so leave this world a little better than he found it. For no reward other than what comes from living in a way that heals rather than harms; that blesses rather than curses; that bears compassion rather than judgment; that does justice, loves mercy, walks humbly with the Divine; that cares for friends, neighbors, loved ones, and strangers with acts of loving-kindness; and through those acts, loving the Source of Life Itself. 

Jim is not here in body. It is ours now to live the best of the spirit of his life through our own. So until time comes for your final letting go: live lives enriched by his presence; bless the world with impractical generosity; live authentically in and through the sacredness of life; never lose joy; and the lesson that, even though crippled and in pain, death is worth having lived, lífe is wórth the fight.

So with Jim full in our hearts and minds, may he and all be blessed by this Irish Blessing:

May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields. Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand. And when eternity beckons; At the end of a life heaped high with love; May the Good Lord embrace you; With the arms that have nurtured you; The whole length of your joy-filled days.

In this unique and precious hour, we have celebrated his life, we have mourned his death; and now we may say, “Fare well, James Benjamin McConnell; we say of you here, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant of the Holy Spirit of Life. The world has been made better by your having lived, by your having loved.’ Those who loved you living, love you now, and will always love you.”

This is no end to mourning any more than a wedding is an end to marriage. (Anger. Denial. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.) There will still be tears. There will be laughter, remembering. There will be reaching out, and pulling in. For some, that patch job in their crazy quilt will never be the same. Is there a hole? Is there a rend? Yes. Those whipstitches and patch jobs remind us that our lives are more whole because we knew him, that we may live more authentically and love more generously until we breathe our last. I invite you to rise for the benediction:

May the love in your soul bless you with wholeness. May the grief of loss bless you with awe. May the wonder of this fragile life bless you with strength for the journey. And may it lead you to life more abundant, a life worth living, a life worth dying for, a life of love and kindness and justice and mercy and peace at the last, a life that leaves the world better for your having lived, better for your having loved. May it be so for thee and for me, Amen.