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Two Eulogies from Francesco's Mass of Christian Burial --given by Dr. Joseph Marino and Gennaro Anzalone
Eulogy for Francesco
By Dr. Joseph Marino
Faith in God is no accident,Hope is not mere wishful thinking,Charity is not giving away the loose change we no longer want.
Francesco – at his very young age – somehow knew this.
Three years ago, Francesco was to me simply a name among other names on the new roster of students. As time went on, I became more aware of the person behind this name. I learned of his illness and I had the opportunity and the privilege of speaking with his mother and eventually with Francesco himself.
As time went on, we spoke about his treatments – about how well he was doing but, most of all, what we really seemed to be speaking about was an unfailing faith that both this remarkable young man and his family had in the deep, mysterious and unimaginable mercy and goodness of God.
During one visit with Francesco, we spoke about many things – politics among them - but the center of his conversation was his deep devotion to Padre Pio. Francesco spoke with the spiritual maturity of a man many years older than his teenage years. He revealed a spirituality that surpassed that of most adults and his openness and his willingness to talk about his love of God and his devotion to Padre Pio was an inspiration to me. He spoke with a deep conviction that God was the center of his life and that Padre Pio was a special patron for him; that Padre Pio was personally aware of him and took a personal interest in his life. But it was always God that shaped his view of the world and it was always God that allowed Francesco to believe deeply that his life had and would always have meaning.
This kind of faith is no accident.
No matter what the news of the moment was, no matter what downturn there may have been, no matter what the doctors had to say, underneath it all, above it all, through it all, there was a faith that all was going to be well.
This kind of faith is no accident.
It is a gift from God and it is nurtured by a supportive and loving family.
Francesco had such a faith.
And Hope is not mere wishful thinking.
Throughout the past few years, every conversation I had with Francesco and, most especially, his mother, was a lesson in the meaning of hope. There was never, not even for an instant, a moment of defeatism, bitterness or ‘why me?’
There was never a public moment of self-pity but only and always the most courageous stand taken with the full confidence that “all will be well.” There was no empty wishful thinking but a hope that was grounded in the deep, mysterious divine mercy that said loud and clear that “with God, all things are possible.”
For Francesco and his family, hope was never mere wishful thinking but a virtue of the highest order – a divine promise that God would never abandon them. Somehow, in his very young life, Francesco knew this.
Hope is sometimes the ‘forgotten virtue.’ We speak often of our faith in God and St. Paul speaks about the primacy of love, but it is, I think, the middle virtue, the virtue of hope that ties the virtues together. Hope is not an empty wish that something good might happen. Hope is not a weak desire for good fortune to occur. Hope is not the superficial longing for something out-of-reach.
Hope is grounded in a conviction that God is in charge and that God will never permit anything but good to come to His children.
And Francesco was and is a child of God.
To live in hope is to live in the certainty that God is our loving Father and that loving Fathers always take care of their children. It is the conviction of the child who leaps from the tabletop into his father’s arms knowing with certainty that he will be caught.
Francesco had such hope.
And Charity is not giving away the loose change we no longer want.
As I grew to know Francesco and his family, I knew with certainty that this was a family of great love.
Francesco’s parents, his brothers, his grandparents, all of his relatives and his many friends were clearly a family in which love is the standard, love is the rule, love is the only measure.
Without love there could be no faith or hope and so the family of Francesco was and is a model of love.
Charity is not the convenient giving away of extra change or things we no longer want. Charity – authentic love – is the giving away of the core of our being and the essence of who we are.
Francesco – having learned well from his parents and family – knew the power of love and, in his young life, shared this gift with everyone who came to know him.
I think of Francesco, not as a student, but as one of my greatest teachers. I think of Francesco as a wonderful gift – first to his parents and family and then to those of us who came to know and love him.
From today forward, when I think of faith, courage and devotion, I will think of Francesco.
In our sadness today, I think Francesco, who lives now in the fullness of Jesus Christ would say the words of the poet who wrote:
What is Death?
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
that we still are.Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without affect,
without the trace of a shadow on it.Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolutely unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?I am waiting for you,
for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well.
~ Henry Scott Holland
Eulogy For a Friend
BY Gennaro Anzalone
No one could have asked for a better friend than Francesco Loccisano.
I first met Francesco when he would stay at his grandparent’s house across the street from mine. I would walk my dog and his brother Chris would always come across to play with the dog, while Francesco would stay on his stoop and smile that warm but shy grin and wave. So I went across the street and introduced myself. Since then we’ve been best friends, hanging out everyday and night, you just couldn’t separate us.
Frankie was one of those rare friends who I was able to talk about anything with. He was a great reader, and used his knowledge and memory well. He was never one to pass judgment on his friends, and I respected him for that.
When Francesco did speak, you could tell he was going to be a great lawyer someday. He was very intelligent and passionate about whatever he believed in and liked a good argument. We would discuss anything from the Legend of Zelda to the Yankees to politics and Frankie always spoke with his heart and backed up his words with logic and reason that made him seem to me more mature and wiser than our peers.
Some of my best memories with Francesco were the days that Camille would wake up and decide that she wanted to go on a road trip. Francesco, Christopher, and I would pile into the car, not even caring where we were going, but we always knew we were heading on a fun adventure.
I can only try to look back at the times we’ve spent together and remember all the good memories we shared over the years. Christina, the family’s poet-in-residence, spoke to me about the poem “Death Be Not Proud.” I read it, and I say ‘Rave on, John Donne’. Souls are God's jewels, and my friend Francesco’s light will always shine the brightest in Heaven.
I know that never again we will share the joy of just hanging out, or watching our favorite movies late at night together. I will never again wrestle with Francesco, nor will we play stoopball or touch football with the other guys on 85th street.
Although God has taken my friend from me physically, with every step I take Francesco will always be in my heart, mind, and soul.
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His legacy
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