One of the great gifts God entrusted me with is a spiritual friendship with one of God’s beloved priests, Fr. Dennis Mende. We share a bond that is similar to the relationships between St. Francis and St. Clare or St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila. I often describe it as sharing a soul.

When we met in 1995 there was an immediate connection. Our shared love of history and Catholicism allowed for endless conversation. We also learned that we both loved the Addams Family and things that were related to that. About a year later I took my first trip to Walt Disney World and fell in love with the Haunted Mansion, just as Fr. Dennis presumed I would!

Our greatest shared passion was Catholicism, and a love of liturgy. He served as the Director for the Diocesan Office of Worship for several years. When we talked Church there was often no need to finish our sentences. We shared an ecclesiology and a theology of ministry, so we usually had the same reactions to Church related things.

Fr. Dennis went home to Jesus on September 8, 2021. I recall telling a friend, “a part of my heart died today.” Two years later I greatly miss being able to talk with my soul friend, especially as our diocese is restructuring into Families of Parishes. He always had such great vision and he helped me see and appreciate the bigger picture.

The friend who can be silent with us
in a moment of despair or confusion,
who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement,
who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing…
that is a friend who cares.
(Henri Nouwen)

Barely five months into our friendship Fr. Dennis’ mom passed away. She was his last surviving parent. At times I have wondered if God put us together at that particular time so we could journey through that grief together. That time embodied Nouwen’s quote. Whenever either of us experienced a difficult time, just being together was a balm to our souls.

To this day I refer to Fr. Dennis as my “best priest friend.” He had very few close friends because he was an extremely private person. Two were a priest and a vowed religious sister that he had served with. His private nature is also what made our friendship unique – how does a lay woman crack through the many “walls” he had?!? That is proof that God intended for us to be soul friends.

Every year we got together during the Christmas season. The gathering was more special when he texted me from Walt Disney World to say that he bought the Haunted Mansion dinnerware for us to use. Shortly after our first HM meal he told me that I would be given the dinnerware upon his death. Imagine my surprise when three months after his death, his niece told me that he had an addendum in his will that gave all of his Haunted Mansion collection to me. Thankfully I had met his niece years before, and she understood the friendship I shared with him.

Grief always sucks. There is no poetic sugar coated word to describe it. “Sucks” is the word. Each grief is unique because each relationship is different. It was Fr. Dennis who told me that grieving is working to incorporate the hole in your heart that nothing else can fill. Grief is learning to live with the hole.

I have a huge hole from his loss. Especially as I watch my diocese continue to change and struggle. Oh the conversations he and I would be having if he was physically here. However, I know he is “here” because love never ends. Even in my saddest moments of grief, I often pause to thank God for entrusting me with Fr. Dennis’ friendship.

Spiritual friendship with a priest is a tremendous blessing. To share prayer and ministry and to journey together requires a great love for Eucharist and Church. As I reflect on the 28 years of friendship I remain in awe of the Eucharistic nature of it. Our shared passion for God was larger than anything else in our lives. That is what allowed us to be spiritual friends. We were Eucharist for each other, and our friendship helped us to be Eucharist for others.

I was honored to sit in the front pew at his funeral. His niece insisted. He lived two hours away, so I was fortunate to find black calla lilies at his local supermarket. His appreciation of all things Addams family/macabre often had him talking about his wake and funeral. One of his requests was that I place a calla lily in his hands in the casket. I stood next to the funeral director who placed the calla lily in his hands right before the casket was closed for the funeral Mass.

For the closing procession I was the first person behind his coffin carrying a black calla lily to his final resting place. I can still vividly recall walking down the aisle of his beloved Church and knowing that my walking with our favorite flower is exactly what he wanted.

I write those last two paragraphs for my own memory, but also because they are evidence of the unique place I was blessed to have in his life. The word Eucharist originates from the Greek word eucharistia which means thanksgiving. This entry is my thanksgiving for the gift of friendship with my best priest friend.