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I join all of you in sincerely offering our
deepest sympathy to Tom's beloved wife, Nancy; his children Peter and Daniel;
his mom and dad, Rose and Jack; his dear sisters and brothers, aunts and
uncles, nieces and nephews. As your relatives and friends, we have come
here this afternoon because we sincerely care about you. We share your
grief. You hurt so deeply and because we are your sisters and brothers
in Christ, we also hurt. May belief in the resurrection be a source of
comfort for you at this very difficult time of physical separation from a man
you loved very much.
Nancy, all of us gathered here this afternoon are
concerned about you. The days ahead are going to be long days of
tremendous adjustment for you. Sometimes the pain will seem almost
unbearable. We care--sincerely, care very deeply about you. If
there is anything anyone of us can do for you, please ask us.
Dear Peter and Daniel, with
your dad's death you experience a vacuum, a feeling of emptiness, a feeling
that calls for silence rather than words. Please add the dimension of
loving faith in God to your human feelings. God will be faithful to
you--he prepares a place for your dad in heaven. God's powerful love is
what gives assurance that all is well. The time will come when your dad
and all of us will be in the same home together. We will be reunited and
see and love each other in a more profound way.
Dear Jack and Rose, the days ahead will be days of
dreadful sadness. Life just doesn't seem fair when a child dies before a
parent. Only by listening, sometimes almost in desperation, will you
hear God speaking. Not explaining, not defending, not justifying.
Only asking, "Do you love me? Then trust me. I do care."
We ask why Tom died. And the only answer is
the absurdity of another young man, whose broken body was taken from the
cross, laid in his mother's arms and carried to a tomb. His family and
best friends did not know why either. They thought it was the end. But
now 2,000 years later we are united here this afternoon in the name of that
person, Jesus, upon whose broken body we build our hope in the resurrection
and find strength to love and believe in eternal life.
This afternoon we stand in the darkness of Tom's
death. The darkness is all the more oppressive because his death came
upon us so suddenly. His death is like a blackout in our lives.
Just last weekend, Tom and his dad were working side-by-side at the farm.
On Sunday, Tom quietly slipped into the house, listened to his mom play the
accordion and when she finished he surprised her with an applause.
Tuesday night on the 10:00 news, Nancy and Gary heard the report that a man
had been killed in an airplane accident and they feared it it was their
husband and brother. A few minutes later, the 911 dispatcher confirmed
that it was indeed Tom. Without any warning, we are plunged into a dense
darkness. In the space of a very short time the Rebholz Family's
world it turned upside down.
My sisters and brothers in Christ, nothing can
prepare us for something like Tom's death. Nothing can save us from the
devastating effects of such a blow. there is only one thing we can do.
Just as when a black out occurs we rush for a light, even that of a simple
candle. So now we rush to the only light that can penetrate this awful
darkness, namely, the light of Christ.
All of us here this afternoon are a part of Tom's
funeral procession. We feel the loss, the terrible emptiness left by his
absence. This afternoon we come with Christian joy to honor one who
truly tried to live like Jesus. The wonderful values of love, concern
and generosity laid the foundation upon which Tom sought to live his life.
He used his 47 years to bring many different
dimensions of life and joy to the world. He was unquestionably dedicated to
his wife and boys, parents and siblings. He was a loving husband and
father. He was a considerate and generous son. As the oldest child, he
was a model and guide for his brothers and sisters. He was a friend to
all.
We pause for a moment on our own journey of life to
celebrate and remember husband and dad, son and brother, nephew and uncle,
fellow worker and friend to all. We pause to give thanks to God for
having been able to walk the road of life with Tom. Today we come
together with our won memories of that life shared. We come with our own
stories of encounters with Tom.
Last Wednesday afternoon as I sat with the Rebholz
family, I listened to their wonderful, loving, memories of encounters with a
special man. There were tales of fun times with Nancy and the boys on
ski trips, at the Blue Lake cottage and on extended family vacations.
There were memories of his making and flying paper airplanes when he was just
4 years old and of Tom's passion for flying all his adult life. There
were remembrances of his serving Mass as a boy and ushering as a young man
here at St. Bernard's. There were stories showing his deep love and
devotion for his parents. They talked about how Tom was a free spirit,
about how he loved to try new things and about how he could accomplish almost
anything. Tom was the living example of imitating Jesus in his love and
care for his family and friends.
Truly Tom is with God. As he identified with the God of life and love in this world so he is identified with the God
of eternal life and love in heaven.
Dear family, good friends, for the way that
Tom lived, he is alive with God. By the way that we live, let us keep
Tom alive in ourselves.
Last Tuesday night, Tom made his final flight,
soared high above the clouds and landed safely in the arms of his heavenly
Father...the God who lovingly said, "Welcome, Tom! Welcome to your
eternal home!."
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