By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

One of the delights in doing what I do for a living is meeting some of the most wonderful people on the planet. Oh, you meet a few old dead heads and a small army of eternally ticked off individuals, but, in the main, most people (even some Christians) are pleasant to be around. Once in a while, you meet a person with whom you just "click."

I first met Pat Cangemi a few years ago when he was courting a lady in our church. Pat and Diane Grizzard had met each other at work and had become friends. The friendship soon blossomed into something deeper and the two were married.

Pat was a Yankee from New York (if I recall correctly) and was raised Roman Catholic. I eventually forgave him for being a Yankee and we became fast friends. He was friendly, outgoing, always smiling, and was that type of individual to whom other men were attracted. He was the definition of a "man's man."

In our conversations, we talked about the ocean and fishing the Florida keys (which he loved) and the bitterly cold New York winters (which he did not love). Pat was a science fiction buff and thoroughly enjoyed attending services at church. But Pat was in his element when the subject of cooking came up. Maybe it was his European heritage, but Pat simply loved to cook. He could do anything Italian, of course, but most people just loved to sink their teeth into a Cangemi hamburger, with the special spices that Pat kept secret from lesser mortals.

Over the past year, our small but growing church conducted several workdays on the new church property. Nearly every Saturday that a workday was called, Pat and Diane broke out the grill and fed the tired, hungry volunteers. He always arrived in plenty of time to heat things up and let the meat cook to just the right amount of time before allowing the would-be construction workers to sample his considerable skills.

It wasn't long before Pat was recruited to be one of the cooks at the regular men's breakfast gatherings. The knowledge that Pat was on the stove was sure to bring a few more men to the Saturday morning table. His joy of cooking and his delight at being with the guys was obvious to anyone who knew him in the slightest way.

In fact, just last weekend, Pat and Diane were scheduled to be away at the beach for a well-deserved day or two of rest. However, when Pat realized that Saturday was the men's breakfast at church, he canceled the trip so that he could be present to cook. Arriving two hours early, Pat prepared a feast of biscuits, pancakes, sausage, and pastries. Those arriving would be greeted by the sounds of sizzle, the aroma of sausage, and the booming voice of the outgoing cook.

On Tuesday evening, just as we were finishing dinner at my house, Pat's stepson, Brack, called. Fighting back emotion, this fine young man choked out the news that, during a rainstorm a short time earlier, Pat's Corvette had hydroplaned on Ga. Highway 16 into oncoming traffic. My wonderful, powerful, delightful friend and parishioner had been killed instantly.

As I drove the several miles to the hospital to meet with the grieving family, I shed copious tears of my own and prayed confused prayers. In fact, nearly everyone in our church who received the news that night responded emotionally. Such was the esteem and love for this man and his family.

I am still in grief and I am still confused. Like everyone who loses a friend or family member, I am repelled by the seeming unfairness of it all. Over the past several hours, I have complained to God, argued my case, prayed for the family, and shed more tears.

This morning, I fixed myself breakfast. When the aroma of sausage reached my nostrils, all I could see through my tear-blinded eyes was my friend Pat standing over the hot stove last Saturday spending his last weekend choosing to serve other men instead of choosing to relax at the beach.

Tomorrow, at his memorial service, and again on Sunday morning, our church will gather around the Table of the Lord. We will gather in the presence of "angels and archangels, prophets, saints, martyrs, and the whole company of heaven, a multitude that no man can number" before God's throne.

And, as is the teaching of the Church Catholic for the last 2,000 years, Pat will be there too, remaining a part of our church in the "great cloud of witnesses" as the Church Militant on earth is united in a mystical way with the Church Triumphant.

We will be comforted and strengthened by the prayers, the scripture, and the presence of each other. We will shower the family with love and well-meaning words and expressions. But we will still shed tears and grieve over our loss.

And, although I really do trust the God whose "ways are not our ways," I still think it's terribly unfair. The world needs more men like Pat, not less.

[David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in the south metro area of Atlanta. He may be contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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