Aug. 31, 2008: Annie's Funeral Cards

Story and Photo By Joe Zlomek

Annie, a silver-haired woman in a tan dress, sits in a pew of St. Aloysius Roman Catholic Church in Pottstown PA. A lightweight black jacket covers her shoulders to ward off the 7 a.m. chill of an early fall Sunday morning. She is waiting for Mass to begin, and she is praying.

In her hands is a small, brown-colored vinyl organizer, about the size of a paperback book. It holds a prayer pamphlet from the Padre Pio shrine in nearby Barto PA, and the funeral cards of Annie's deceased relatives and friends.

Most people who attend funerals - out of love, or respect, or friendship, or maybe because they feel they must - pick up or are given a funeral card during their visit at a viewing. Most people hold onto them briefly, tucking them into a vest pocket or purse. Then they're usually forgotten until re-discovered sometime later, and often discarded.

Annie is unlike most people.

Funeral cards she receives are as cherished as the memories of the friends they represent. She pulls each card from the organizer, and scans the name and photo of its deceased, and reads the prayer or psalm inscribed on its face. Her lips move. Her eyes are intently focused.

Annie fingers each card gently, as though she is holding hands with the person she's remembering. Her jewelry - a few small rings on both hands, and a thin bracelet on her frail-looking right wrist - flashes with her movements beneath the still-dim lighting inside the church. It's as if her loved ones are winking back in response to her caress.

As Mass begins Annie sets the organizer aside, to her left on the oak pew, allowing her to concentrate on the service. But its sleeves are open, and the cards visible, so her friends can attend Mass with Annie too.