Two blogs ago, I wrote the following: "On your prayer list, add Jim
Connelly. He experienced a health problem, happily not life threatening." I was
terribly, and sadly, wrong. Today, Saturday, Sept. 1, I attended the funeral of
my friend, James Vincent Connelly. A wonderful teacher, coach, father and one of
my best friends.
A little less than 2 months ago, Jim was hit by a stroke, but after a short period of time, he seemed to be recovering. It would take time, but he'd be OK. Maybe not fully back, but good enough. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he contracted pneumonia and went down hill from there.
Having known Jim since 1967, both professionally and socially, I hold and cherish my memories of him. I’ve always known that Jim was a fine teacher and coach, and a wonderful father and husband, but the week prior to his death, and his wake and funeral, gave me a better sense of how good he was.
During that last week, his whole family convened at his bedside and kept watch over him night and day. The children that lived out of town came from as far away as Afganistan, Romania, New York and Minnesota, joining the rest of their family to be with their father.
During the wake and funeral, the expressions of awe, admiration and gratitude for him, by his former students and athletes, were overwhelming. So many told me that he was the "best teacher" that they ever had, and many said that he influenced their life choices.
I didn’t know Jim as a teacher, coach or father. I knew him as my friend ... someone with whom I could chat, kid around and, sometimes, have a beer. Looking back on that, I get a guilty feeling because I realize some of my sadness is selfish. When I realized that Jim was probably not going to make it, I was confronted by my losing a friend and by my own mortality.
Jim’s life is to be truly celebrated. Twice on the day of his funeral, family members exclaimed that he wasn’t perfect, and he never meant to be viewed that way. I respectfully disagree. He may not have meant to be viewed as "prefect", but Jim Connelly was the PERFECT Jim Connelly. He never wavered from that, and I never had to wonder which Jim Connelly would show up.
Sue and family, know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. Jim, safe home, my friend.
A little less than 2 months ago, Jim was hit by a stroke, but after a short period of time, he seemed to be recovering. It would take time, but he'd be OK. Maybe not fully back, but good enough. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he contracted pneumonia and went down hill from there.
Having known Jim since 1967, both professionally and socially, I hold and cherish my memories of him. I’ve always known that Jim was a fine teacher and coach, and a wonderful father and husband, but the week prior to his death, and his wake and funeral, gave me a better sense of how good he was.
During that last week, his whole family convened at his bedside and kept watch over him night and day. The children that lived out of town came from as far away as Afganistan, Romania, New York and Minnesota, joining the rest of their family to be with their father.
During the wake and funeral, the expressions of awe, admiration and gratitude for him, by his former students and athletes, were overwhelming. So many told me that he was the "best teacher" that they ever had, and many said that he influenced their life choices.
I didn’t know Jim as a teacher, coach or father. I knew him as my friend ... someone with whom I could chat, kid around and, sometimes, have a beer. Looking back on that, I get a guilty feeling because I realize some of my sadness is selfish. When I realized that Jim was probably not going to make it, I was confronted by my losing a friend and by my own mortality.
Jim’s life is to be truly celebrated. Twice on the day of his funeral, family members exclaimed that he wasn’t perfect, and he never meant to be viewed that way. I respectfully disagree. He may not have meant to be viewed as "prefect", but Jim Connelly was the PERFECT Jim Connelly. He never wavered from that, and I never had to wonder which Jim Connelly would show up.
Sue and family, know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. Jim, safe home, my friend.
What I remember about Jim was this: during lunchtime in the teacher's lounge, he would spread out all his papers to grade at his own table, but naturally he would listen to the lunch conversation around him and then, bam, he would throw out a gruff one-liner that somehow sounded like a poem.
ReplyDeleteThat man. He was a good one.
Sara Gries