It is the winter of my discontent as my brother, Dan, died suddenly.

Here is his obit:

Michael Daniel “Dan” Elliott, 71, husband of Mary Elliott, passed away suddenly on Saturday, February 11, 2023 at Georgetown Community Hospital.  Born in Louisville, KY, and graduating from St. Xavier High School, Dan received a Bachelor of Arts degree from Centre College and later furthered his education with a Master’s in Religious Studies from Spalding University. After a successful career in the equine industry, he retired from 3M after 15 years. 

Dan’s primary devotions in his life were to his family, his faith, and his friends. He was a devoted member of SS Francis and John Catholic Parish, a member of the Knights of Columbus, RCIA Team, Men’s Breakfast, Faith Formation, and Cursillo. Dan enjoyed reading, UK Basketball and Football, the Cincinnati Reds and a good beer.

In addition to his wife of 25 years, Dan is survived by his children, Michael Elliott of Morehead, Matt (Cassie) Elliott, of Georgetown, Paul (Jane) Elliott of Lexington, Jamie (Heather) Knecht of Stamping Ground, and Kelly (J.D.) Krouse of Fort Wayne, Indiana; siblings, Mary Anne Elliott of Oregon City, Oregon, and Terry (Elaine) Elliott of Munfordville, Ky; 16 grandchildren, one great granddaughter, several nieces and nephews, and many close friends.  Dan was preceded in death by his parents, Eli and Patricia Elliott, his first wife, Sue Lacewell Elliott; and his brother, Richard Elliott.  

Funeral service will be at 10:30 AM Friday, February 17, 2023 at St. John Catholic Church, conducted by Rev. Linh Nguyen.  Burial will follow at St. Francis Cemetery.  Visitation will be 4-7:30 PM Thursday, February 16 at St. John Catholic Church, with Rosary service beginning at 7:30 PM, followed by Eucharistic Adoration from 8 PM until midnight.  In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to St. John Catholic Church Building Fund.

What next?  As if we all don’t know.  A poem for my brother, but mostly for those of who keep on.  Slainte!

 

In Memory of Dan 

Walking to the barn

in a thunderstorm

in lambing time

on Dan’s funeral day.

How apt to be wrapped

in driving wind

& lightning

& wave after wave

of grieving rain.

We are, 

after all, 

planting a sequoia today.

So let us put 

communion in our cup

And then lift it up,

“Slainte!”

Or as a wiser poet once prayed,

teaching  us how to grieve,

“Just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.”

Let Dan speak to each of us today in the silence.

Slainte.