I can understand why he might want Tim, but why did Jim want me?
Was this to be an honor for both of us.........
or a test.......... or kind of a fun-loving prank?
He knew I am Agnostic in my beliefs
Did he want me to give words of comfort for those of you who are not as convinced as the others that there is an afterlife and people waiting for us there?
He knew I am pretty up front and not afraid of the Truth
Did he want me to tell those things that were not exactly stellar about him? Things that would bring his life into balance. Things that would offset all the wonderful and compassionate things he did do? Things that would make it less painful for us to let go of him?
He knew I love to analyze everything....and he disliked that about me, even ridiculed me at times and warned certain people to be careful around me because I would psychoanalyze them. "Don't let her upset you" were his words.
So did he want me to try and upset you or maybe be upset myself? Yes, if he was shrewd enough to play that game with me he succeeded because I truly don't know why I am standing here and I can't analyze this one into a satisfying conclusion.
He knew I have a sense of humor and can tell a pretty good story.
Did he want me to tell about the time we were all still living at home. He had gone out with the gang to McGreeneys and he came home very late and mistook my half slip hanging in the bathroom for his pajama bottoms and slept all night in it?
He knew how much I value our family
Did he want me to comfort all of you in this hour of grief?
He knew I had done public speaking, some of it from the pulpit.
Did he think that I may be one of the only people (besides Tim) who could actually stand up here and feel comfortable?
He knew I had a good memory for details and could factor in both the positives and negatives.
Did he want me to tell you what I saw as his strong points, his weaknesses, those things that made him a classic Turk. Did he want me to hint at the secrets he kept even from himself? I think I might be able to do that but intimacy does not allow me to speak so publicly about these tender things
Did you know this about me, Jim? Did you know you could feel safe with me?
What did you know about me Jim? And why did you ask me to deliver part of your eulogy?
The answer to this question, along with all the other things that James Turk kept to himself, went with him that night. I would say that few people ever had a in-depth discussion with Jim, and most probably never got more than a one or two word comment out of him (unless he was conducting one of his tours of the city). Most of my life with Jim was spent with him being silent and me wondering if I'm boring him, entertaining him, upsetting him, enlightening him, or just keeping an unnecessary conversation going. He was the quintessential Quiet Man.
And yet his life spoke volumes. He was a living presence. A perfect example of Familial Devotion, Marital Commitment, Dedication to a Cause, Compassion for people, all people. There was a man who lived outside this church. When Jim would leave work every night at 9:00 he would give him a dollar or two for spend money. I would hope that man is here now to hear how much Jim respected him.
One of his childhood heroes was Superman. Jim talked about having flying dreams. At night in his sleep he would "fly" all over the world helping people.
As we sat on opposite sides of Jim's bed that last night Mike reminded me of this little out-of-body trick Jim could do, this flying. We hoped he was flying high that night and not in that bed suffering.
I know it was difficult for Jim to come back to 5621 Richmond, the place he called home until he met his "angel" Joan. He told me once in the private talks he and I would have in rare moments now and again about an experience he had that was so wonderful for him. He described it this way: "I was sitting in the front room all alone. It was late at night. Suddenly the room got very very cold, so cold I could see my breath. A bright light filled the room. Suddenly I knew that my purpose in the world would soon be revealed to me."
A year or so later he met Joan at I.C. Parish. Within a few short months they were married. A year later she discovered she had cancer. His purpose was before him. He was to love this woman unto death, and then take care of her child. Jennie then became his reason for living, his purpose in life. He helped her become strong enough to take care of him. And take good care of him she did. Jim was a loving husband and father.
So coming back to 5621 Richmond was a difficult thing for Jim.
I imagine giving up his life to cancer was not as painful as giving up the dream he had for himself and his wife and child.
But we, his former family, did our best to provide him with the safety and security of knowing he was surrounded by people who cared about him. We did our best to deliver him to the threshold of his faith and see him off.
I would personally like to express my gratitude to everyone who helped Mike and I give to Jim the only thing he ever came right out and up-front asked for—permission to die in our home. When he was told by his doctor that there was no hope of curing him, he was given the name of Horizon Hospice and told he would have a choice to stay at home or go to a Hospice House. At that point he broke down for just a few seconds and said: "I'd like to stay here if you don't mind."
It was not a matter of "Mind" it was now business of the heart.
I merely returned the favors he had done for me when, as a mother with small children, I had to go home not once but twice.
Jim reaped what he sowed.
We were all there for him during that last year of his life with our cards and calls, visits and prayers, and then keeping the final vigil.
We did our best to thank him and let him know how much he meant to us.
Now we say good-bye to his Presence in our life.
My last words to him were "I'm really going to miss you."
That, Jim, will be true for as long as I live, and possibly forever.