I honestly had no intention of making it a journal of death; despite the subject matter of its namesake poem. Yet, here I am with another death to write about.
I cannot recall exactly how long ago I met Charlie Mezzomo, but never would have done so without the aid of the internet. He was a closeted priest, living in the Chicago area. While there was some sexual attraction, the probability that we would ever meet was low. Still, he was an intelligent man, and not out to convert me. I had to admire that, even if I often found his support of the Church's condemnation of homosexuality both hypocritical and frustrating (much like his die hard support for the Bush administration).
We really bonded, however, after Sunny went into the hospital. Despite the fact that I hate talking on the telephone, I was always able to speak with him. Whenever I needed to talk, he was there to listen...not with platitudes or visions of pearly gates and cherubs, but with the voice of experience and sincere empathy. Charlie and another friend of mine, Bill Moira, both helped me cope with the fact that I was only human, and after Sunny's death...both let me go through the mourning I needed to.
I finally got to meet Charlie when I took a trip to Chicago a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, our foray into Chicago ended with his brand new car getting hit by a car, and us spending a couple of hours at the police station with the woman who hit him. We spent most of the rest of the time at his parish in East Chicago, but it was good to spend a week with the man who helped me through the roughest patch of my life.
We had a bit of a falling out not too long ago. I regret not making more of an effort to reach out again. We played phone tag a few times, but in the end never got a chance for one last conversation.
Charlie's partner, Bruce, got in touch with Tom yesterday, to let him know that Charlie passed away September 21st.
Rest in Peace, Charlie.
From a fellow priest:
On Monday, September 21, the Leave-taking of the Feast of the Universal Exaltation of the Holy, Precious and Life-giving Cross of the Lord, at 9:30 p.m., Very Reverend Archpriest Charles Mezzomo, took leave of the cross of this earthly life and entered the heavenly kingdom. He was my best friend in the priesthood for nearly fifty years. Both he and Fr. Eugene Fulton flew to Montreal to concelebrate my priestly ordination in 1977 at which he lovingly vested me in his own priestly vestments. Both before and since, as countless others, I have been vested in his holy prayers. He was good, kind, firm but gentle, a consummate liturgist and church musician. He was a gifted translator, a sower of vocations, a healing confessor and a fervent practitioner of the art of prayer. He was a prince among priests. He routinely inquired after the well-being of our beloved St. Michael'sRussian Catholic Chapel. As he never abandoned us in his prayers during his brief earthly sojourn, let us not abandon him on his final journey from this place of exile to the heavenly Fatherland: rather let us entreat him to pour forth his prayers on our behalf as now, orphaned and, as it were, halved, we walk this vale of tears alone.
Labels: Charles Mezzomo, death, priests
