At the time of Collette's death, I simply didn't know what to expect from our faith community. The funeral was respectful, prayerful, and meaningful for the family. The young Priest read my eulogy in a very caring way, and I am thankful for his delivery.

During the hectic days following the funeral, I had little time to myself, and that fact was a blessing. My sister, sensing that I needed to get away, persuaded me to visit with her in Saskatoon where I took time to attend my fifty-fifth high school reunion. When I returned to Victoria, I had much time on my hands and more time to think about the recent events in my life. Of course, there were many letters to write, cards to acknowledge, and bills to pay.

One day, after I returned to Victoria, it dawned on me that I had not heard from any of our friends from church. A few of our older friends attended the funeral, but I had heard nothing from them since. It took me some time to understand the difference between my expectations of support from my faith community and the reality of its perceived lack of response.

After Claire and I were married in 1991, questions about the response of our faith community to the subject of bereavement arose again. Claire and I were interested in forming a bereavement support group in our parish. Frankly, this proved to be a very difficult task. The most
success that we could manage was to bring a minimal awareness of Hospice services to the parish, largely thanks to the enthusiasm of our pastor.

Once a year, Victoria Hospice hosts a one-day spiritual conference. Usually, the conference features a guest speaker and several presentations from doctors and nurses, the bereavement office, and volunteers. We persuaded our pastor to attend.

Several days later we had an opportunity to talk with him about the conference and the presentations. He said, “The amazing thing is that I have been a priest for forty-three years, and these people have taught me how to speak to a dying person.”

Even though he had attended to the spiritual and religious needs of his parishioners in a consistently caring and non-judgmental way, at this event he learned how to listen, more as a friend than as a pastor, to what the dying person wanted to say.

For me, there is a definite conundrum around definitions and expectations of faith, faith communities, and spirituality. I don't think that we should confuse spirituality with religion. Spirituality is bigger than religion, which tends to be defined in very specific terms. I think that this is the reason why I have struggled with my faith community's response to my needs as a bereaved person.

If we think about spirituality as the key element in honouring lost loved ones, then maybe we could move beyond the imposed restrictions of conventional faith practice. Maybe we could replace those generic plug-in fill-in-the-blanks funerals, for example, with something that better reflects the unique individuality of the person whose presence is sorely missing from our lives. Maybe, if we could encourage people to focus on spiritual needs, gen erally, they would be better equipped to find ways to support the bereaved in their midst.

Since spirituality is defined as the vital animating essence of a person, we need to remember that this definition applies to the living as well as to the deceased.