Ray’s Passing, A Story of Peace

Ray was 96, a man of deep faith and devotion to the Blessed Mother.

Years earlier, after the loss of his son, Ray and his wife Rita traveled to Medjugorje, where they felt an overwhelming love that stayed with them for the rest of their lives. I had known Ray for eight years. When he went on hospice, we all knew the end was nearing.

The morning I called his aide, one of the most devoted, loving human beings I’ve ever known, she sounded heartbroken. “He’s still alive,” she said softly. “I’m just sitting with him, speaking gently.”

I said, “Please put the phone to his ear. I’m sending you Mary’s Hymn. Let him listen. It will bring him peace.”

“You bet,” she said.

An hour later, she called me back. “Ray died,” she said quietly. “I put the hymn to his ear and sat beside him. Then the nurse came in to give his medication and said, ‘He’s already gone.’”

She paused and then said something I will never forget:

“Rita, his face changed. The blotchy red was gone. He looked twenty years younger. He was so peaceful—so beautiful.”

She added, “I don’t know what’s in that Mary’s Hymn, but that was one of the most beautiful passings I’ve ever witnessed.”

Later, Ray’s family called.

“It brings us such peace,” they said, “knowing he was listening to Mary’s Hymn as he went home.