Leona Schaefer gained her eternal reward this week. I think this photo may have been the last time I saw her, two years ago on a chilly May Sunday in Eastertide, at St. Mary’s Church in Kansas City. John sang in the choir, and Leona and I sat together in that historic nave.
The night after my father died, John and Leona and I had dinner at a restaurant in Lee’s Summit. They rarely ate at home and had a coupon then wanted to use. That was the very day, as I recall, that Leona went in for some doctor stuff that eventually led to a diagnosis of cancer.
And now, three and a half years later, this valiant, kind, loving person has lost her earthly struggle with that perverse cancer, and sings today with the angels.
She sang like an angel already, though, as so many know and knew.
Funny . . . this is not how I envisioned the John and Leona story ending. I had in my mind that he would be playing the Toccato from Widor 5, with Leona turning pages, and as we sat enraptured by those last chords, waiting to turn and applaud, they’d just sort of rapture up and that would be it.
Perverse, evil cancer.
Facebook has been awash in sorrow, but also in memories of love. For love was something Leona (also know as Fiona) possessed and shared in abundance. She and John — for me at least it was almost always John and Leona — loved cats. They cared for a cathedral cat for many years, and they had a menagerie of indoor and outdoor felines at home.
They cared for others too. At least three gay men in have credited her with unconditional love as they came out, according to Facebook in the last couple of days. And Leona was godmother to children of choir members, closest of friends to a bevy of sopranos and altos, choir mother to cathedral choristers.
Leona and John were a constant presence at anything classical-music-related in Kansas City. I am having a hard time envisioning John without his Leona, for they were inseparable, an indomitable duo.
I traveled three times with John and Leona to England and Scotland, singing in ancient cathedrals from north to south, from Exeter to London. I dedicated my Phos hilaron to them in 1996, and it’s still my favorite piece of music I’ve composed. They supported me and cheered me on from the outset, and they are a big part of the reason I am Episcopalian. John in particular is one of my most important mentors; Leona was his rock.
And organized! She calculated the split of the bill at dinner, and added the tip too. Many folks have a story of her telling them to the penny what they owe for a meal after choir rehearsal.
So her earthly vessel is still, but her soul has winged its way heavenward. The angelic choir gained a fine soprano. Those who knew her best are bereft, and also those who knew her as I did, where time and distance have taken some toll on the closeness, are sad but happy for her that the pain is gone, a bit anxious for John as he adjusts to a new life, and feeling like part of the music that inhabits our memories is somehow dampened or in a strange new key.
Father of all, we pray to you for our sister Leona, and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest. Let light perpetual shine upon them. May her soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
jeffreycarter.wordpress.com 