John Hill's sermon for Nicolas

One of the many gifts that Nic left us with was his blog, describing the tortuous and transforming journey he was on. It is a marvellous portrait of his deepening awareness of the gift of life and of the challenge we face of making the most of this gift. It was one of the ways he learned to own his feelings by naming them and laughing and crying about them. It gave him a way to acknowledge how deeply grateful he was to his family and friends for their support, how much he appreciated Izzie and David and Robert, how deep his bond was with his mother and with his father, how much strength he drew from their unconditional love.

The blog was also a way of exploring the soul’s journey which he was being led into by his disease. He talked about cancer as the catalyst of that discovery; he was learning that the opposite of love is not hate but fear. He went so far as to acknowledge that as long as fear ruled his heart, the cancer had not yet served its purpose. Most of all, I think, his blog revealed his awareness of the blossoming seed of his fuller humanity which death could not destroy; because of this emerging awareness, he was able to play with the idea of dying as a marvellous adventure, something perhaps like childbirth . . .

Was he deluded? Was this all just a form of denial?

What we’ve been listening to in these readings from the Bible [Isaiah 61. 1-3; Psalm 23; Revelations 21: 1-7; John 14. 1-6] assures us that Nic was not deluded, that this spiritual quest will not be disappointed, because it has always been God’s loving and enduring purpose to bring our human endeavour to fulfilment in a world transformed. The reading from the last book of the Bible invited us to fix our hopes on a holy city coming down out of heaven from God, a new society which God would call ‘home’; where every tear would be wiped away and death would be no more. “See, I am making all things new,” says God. And so I see the hard-won transformation of Nic’s soul as a sign, a foreshadowing even, of that ultimate universal transformation. It’s the home meant for us all, if we’re willing to risk the adventure that Nic knew so well.

Butu yet, I still find it very easy to get stuck on the hard question: Why did he have to suffer so much? — a question I will not try to answer. All I know is that Nic’s experience bears a striking resemblance to the experience of the One whom Christians know as “the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” The story of Jesus, his great project, and how it ended, is marked by great suffering — not just the final ordeal of an unjust trial and a brutal execution, but the siffering of anticipation: knowing that the world was not yet ready to welcome the kind of transformation he was offering, and that the triumph of social panic and suspicion would crush him rather than accept transformation. Yet today we stand amazed, inspired, and grateful for his courageous faith that made even his suffering a revelation, a demonstration of God’s solidarity with us in our suffering, because we know that God raised him from death to a new existence. And Nic’s life is now “hidden with Christ in God,” who will one day reveal the new, transformed Nic in glory, when the world itself is reborn through the love and courage of Jesus.

Today’s first reading, from the ancient prophecy of Isaiah, was the very text that Jesus himself adopted as the definition of his own mission: “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because . . . he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken hearted . . . to comfort all who mourn . . . to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning . . . “

He is our hope of human transformation.

What i wrote for Nic years ago and what i wrote for him a week after he passed away. (read by Izzy at the service)

I found this about a week ago, it was a present I had written for Nic when I was about 9 or 10 and I thought I’d read it here today:

I don't really know what to make you, so I will write some stuff about you i really like.

You're like someone to look up to, you have always been. You dont go to the Park anymore but when you did you could make any boring game fun. You write great stories when you do write. You are the only one I want to fight when we are having our battles. You are not like other teenagers and for that I am grateful.

I like your sense of humor, I like your kindness. When I’m with you I feel I am protected. I feel I can tell you about what pisses me off in life.

I hope that all sisters are as lucky as I am to have a brother like you.

Happy Birthday Nick,

Love, Lizzie

After Nic died I thought to myself, if it was his Birthday, what would I write to him now?

So I wrote it and here it is:

So Nic, I think we grew a bit apart. It was nobody’s fault, we just naturally started down different paths and liking different things. We stopped having much in common. I still liked star wars and you moved on to World of WarCraft.

For a while it was like that. That distance between us and when mom died it changed things and brought us closer. But we still weren’t the same as we used to be, still not quite the bond we used to have, and so, in some weird way, I can say thank you to all that has happened, because even though it is one of the most painful things on this planet to see someone you love die, your illness made us close again, and we found new things we have in common, like all of us snuggled in on the couch watching True Blood or you and I staying up way too late watching Entourage. Or our long talks about mom and death and healing.

I got to know you again and I am so grateful. Even though I miss you Nic I am grateful and even though I miss making you breakfast and helping to take care of you, it makes me so happy to know you are with mom and that I don’t have to miss you forever because someday I’ll be with you guys too.

So to clarify,

I still love everything about you,

I still look up to you,

and I still know how lucky I am to have a brother like you.

Love, Izzy

Quotes from Rumi. (Read by David at the service)

"I'm Going to read some quotes now written by a famous Sufi mystic that Nic and i really liked"

"I have no companion but Love,

no beginning, no end, no dawn.
The soul calls from within me:
You, ignorant of the way of Love,
set Me free."

"The lover is forever like a drunkard
whose secrets spill out,
forever mad, frenzied, and in love.
To be self-conscious is to worry about everything,
but once drunk, what will be will be."

"To Clutch at Madness

Conventional opinion is the ruin of our souls,
something borrowed which we mistake as our own.
Ignorance is better than; clutch at madness instead.
Always run from what seems to benefit yourself:
sip the poison and spill the water of life.
Revile those who flatter you;
lend both interest and principal to the poor.
Let security go and be at home amid dangers.
Leave your good name behind
and accept disgrace.
I have lived with cautious thinking;
now I'll make myself mad."

From Nic's journal, (Read by Travis at Nic's Funeral.)

Journal Entry: August 29, 2009 – About to find out if my new cancer, the one I switch to, Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia was in remission or not:

Life is a funny thing. I find that it likes to slap us around a little. I suppose that is what we get for taking it too seriously sometimes. Last Friday I was going in to the hospital to find out if my leukemia was in remission or not. Always a fun day. Physically I had felt pretty good for the previous week and I went into the hospital thinking everything was going to be fine.
After enduring the hospital waiting game, which at times can be worse than any disease, I got called in. I have become quite familiar with the printouts of my blood counts. After they take blood they are able to analyze it and determine the exact levels of your hemoglobin, leukocytes, platelets, neutrophils and all the other components of your blood. Being eager as I was to find out how my counts were doing I looked at the sheet. Shit. Hemoglobin was lower than before. My first leukemia, AML, was the type that dropped your hemoglobin (red blood cells). The other counts looked good but my red blood cells, oh no!
The human brain jumps to the worst possible scenarios: “Oh god, AML is back, I’m fucked.” and “This cancer is too aggressive, I will be dead in a year...” At the same time though, there was a strong feeling of calm or acceptance. I was afraid of death and I really didn't want to die when I was going through AML (Acute Myeloid Leukemia) back in January.
Back to the hospital room – sitting there waiting for the doctor with these fearful thoughts running through my head and a little sadness around the idea of dying. Sadness yes, but not fear. I don't like the idea of leaving so many good, amazing, and loving friends and family behind. Sure my troubles will be over when I die but what about everyone else? I went through hell when my mom died, it sucked! So a few minutes go by like this and then my doctor passes by and peeks at my blood counts as he's going to another appointment. I laugh a nervous kind of “I'm fucked” laugh as he pauses. He then says “looks good” and moves on.
Waves of relief rush over me. All that worry, all those fearful thoughts of AML returning, having to go through the intense chemotherapy again and forever, doctors giving up because my disease is too aggressive, so many fearful thoughts all washed away. Ahh, I did it again. I fell into the trap. I forgot to trust!
You see, as I said, life likes to slap us around a little. Where there is potential for fear, one will usually experience it on very intense levels before it has even happened! Then, when it does happen, it is never as bad as you would have thought. In fact it is usually the opposite and you walk away from the experience with new insight or even joy. This is why it is so important to try and keep your mind in the present moment. I won't go into all the reasons why, Eckhart Tolle writes volumes on it. Keeping your mind in the present helps you avoid so much anxiety, so much negative thinking. It helps you overcome fear.
Along with “being in the now” it is also important to take a non-judgmental attitude towards everything that happens. Try not to view things as bad or good. They are what they are. The “best” things in life can often lead to being considered the most disastrous and at the same time the most “horrible” things in life can become the most beautiful. I should be clear here that this doesn't mean deny happiness and joy in your life nor sadness. Feel those things as they come. Emotion is, after all, a huge part of the human experience.
Only 40% of A.L.L. patients survive passed 5 years. And A.L.L. has the highest rate out of all the blood cancers. It is quite possible that I will die in the next few years. Although death does not scare me anymore (it is the big unknown but everyone has to face it some time in their life) I do feel a great deal of grief around possibly leaving so early. In my belief, souls leave when they have learned what they need to learn from that lifetime, or if they have become too caught up in the illusion of life. A soul, especially a soul that has seen many lifetimes, that sets out what it wants to learn and then gets too distracted or scared to accomplish that goal while in a human body, will most likely leave and start again in another form. They are here for the human experience!
What we must always remember, what I must always remember, is that we are always safe. There is really nothing to be afraid of and all spiritual masters know this. Death to me is so unknown. Perhaps we are just purely biological, bunches of moving matter with big brains that one day will cease to move and breathe; lights out, finished. But that is a boring perspective. I prefer the view that in death we transform to our purest, highest evolved self, the soul – the light – the love, and that we return to our source of such warmth and joy as never experienced in a human body. There we can remain or we can choose again to re-enter the playground that is life and incarnate into a beautiful baby. Millions of souls always coming and going, always interacting with one another, bringing each other the experiences we need to grow, to learn, to love. This perspective feels right to me.
When someone dies, especially a loved one, I think it is important to feel the sadness that they are gone, but to also rejoice in their leaving. I wish this for my friends and family. I plan on living many long years. Plans have a habit of going wrong though and if I leave, I want to look back at this world, at my friends and loved ones and see that they are happy for me and anyone else that dies.
On a less morbid note I encourage everyone to always face their fears. Fear is a powerful force that can work against you and possibly leave you crippled but like everything else it is only there to help. Charge headlong into your fear and it will evaporate and leave you feeling so much better and more powerful than before. You will find new passion, ambition and joy for life and in return get a richer and fuller experience. Trust in life. We are always safe!

Eulogy for Nicolas (from Cynthia Long)

On a full moon in the final days of August, Nicolas Jozsef Bergeron, a very dear young friend, completed the journey from physical form to being of light. His passing followed that of his mother Ildiko, a beloved feminine soulmate of mine, by only three years. I was grateful to have the chance to speak at a service in Nic's honour...

Nic was a beautiful man. Tall, dark and handsome, yes, but above all inwardly beautiful, and throughout his illness, his beauty only grew. Nic had his father’s lanky grace and gentle eyes. He also inherited Jacques’ gifts of artistry, diplomacy, and kindness. And in other ways, in the passions of his mind and spirit, Nic was his mother’s son. Like Ildiko, Nic bore a fierce curiosity about matters of the heart and soul, and after embarking upon his journey with leukemia, his search for meaning exploded. Like his mother, Nic had always fought a battle with shyness and self-doubt, but he dreamt of travel, and women and love, and above all, he longed for a clear direction in life, one that would allow him to step into the largeness that was his true Self.

A student of varied spiritual philosophies, Nic was also drawn to the wisdoms of his mother. Nic and Ildiko shared a commitment to deep honesty, self-responsibility and a hunger to help others. Over the years I have been blessed with the opportunity to spend many hours in discussion with Nic about the things he found the most important in life, so I’d thought I’d like to share some of them with you today, because I think Nic, and the budding teacher and author in him, would really like it. So … a taste of his favourite topics…

“Life is suffering, and that’s okay. It is through crisis and pain that we dare to become who we really are.”

Those of us close to Nic were witness to the most extraordinary blossoming in him throughout the course of his illness, an opening that seemed to reach wider and wider, the more ill he became. The young man who had once been afraid to speak, unveiled a startlingly honest and eventually award-winning blog about his experience with cancer. In his last months, Nic had no patience for falsehoods or denial. He was determined to learn every lesson, open every gift that came as a result of his challenges. And then, he wanted everyone else around him to get it too.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s a waste of precious time.”

Nic spoke to me often of his “old” self, and all the shyness he had worked to overcome. But once Nic awakened to his new Self, there was no turning back. There was so much he wanted to taste. To see Europe, to publish his writings, to find a woman who could match his own intellectual, emotional and spiritual enquiry. And as he grew more and more courageous in the facing of his physical mortality, he could not bear to see others around him doing anything other than leaping into the abyss of life. In the last conversation we had he spoke of a plan to have a lovely woman friend push him along the boardwalk in his wheel chair. He never undervalued the joys of a game with his brothers, a film with his whole family or just one more trip to Queen for an ice capp. He wanted more moments. And he wanted all of us to see just how perfect are the moments we have.

“Feel, express it, and be set free.”

Nic believed in the power of understanding our emotions, not running from them, and not drowning in them. One day he would speak of how tired he was of grief. Don’t they get it? he’d say. I’m the lucky one, I get to leave and be in bliss and they’re stuck here. And then the next, he would plot to draw someone into his arms for an embrace sure to open their heart wide, and spill the waiting tears. Some days he would question. Some days, he would doubt. Occasionally he feared the hurt his beloved family might experience, and he would wonder if there wasn’t some deep truth behind it all that he had somehow missed. But through his relentless self-honesty, his writings, meditations and dreams, he walked through his challenges with such strength in the midst of his own physical weakness that he was able to reach out to others. Nic visited other young cancer patients on his floor when he was in hospital, not just to cheer them up, but to remind them to empower themselves in their own healing. Those of us around him who were in good health weren’t spared either. Nic watched over all of us, and no one was permitted to get away with anything even slightly cowardly or unconscious. He wanted healing for the whole world, not just for himself.

(The photo on the left is of a particularly radiant Nic in the late stages of his illness.)

And finally..

“Never give up on joy, because Love is all there is.”

It’s impossible to speak about Nic without making reference to his extraordinary family. It would be so easy to see only the unfairness in what these beautiful souls have had to face. And yet Nic believed deeply in Trust, in grieving and then letting go, and in the eternity of Love. This faith was and is lived by each and every one of the Pataky/Bergerons. Their readiness for joy cannot be extinguished, and Nic led the way, as he never stopped reaching for the smallest of pleasures in life, in his constant awareness of how the energy of his heart created his world. Nic knew that Love is everything, and everything is Love. He knew we cannot fail at love, that it cannot be lost or forgotten, only perhaps hidden for a time, beneath our fear. But always, even in the darkest of moments, Nic knew how to return to joy, and he made it very clear that this was his wish for everyone, should he leave to join his mom. And so from Nic to everyone who loved and loves him, cry as much and as often as you need. But then get ready to live a really great party, with food and drink and wild drumming and unbridled dance. Because, as Nic knew so well, every piece we are given of life is worthy of celebration. And there’s no need to look elsewhere. Love is already here.

EULOGY FOR NICOLAS (From Nic’s father, Jacques. Read at the funeral service August 30, 2010)

I guess it’s safe to say that I now stand in a place where no parent would ever want to find themselves in. The last 2 years have brought me face to face with one of my worst fears. This fear was reinforced by every setbacks we experienced along the way, during Nic’s long battle with Leukemia. I would like to share a bit of my personal journey with you in the hope that I can show you that in the midst of deep grief and loss there can also be hope and peace.

Nicolas, or Nic as he was known to most, was born in October of 1985 under the sign of Libra. His name came to me in a dream around the time of his birth. In his youth, Nic was a sensitive, playful child with an easy laughter. In a playground or school setting, he was a bit shy of joining a new group of children. However once he did he would often become the group’s soft spoken leader. His gentle but strong ways and ideas influenced his friends and peers, and as he grew older he was always respected in the close circles he had formed around himself.

He was always surrounded by love. He developed a very strong loving bond with his mom, his sister Izzy, his brothers David and Robert, and with myself. He had a very loving extended family, at the head of which were his loving grandparents. He thrived in the beautiful and rich environment of the Waldorf school. Through the Waldorf community, he developed bonds and friendships that will continue to grow beyond the confines of this one life. As a young man, Nic was healthy and strong. His impressive 6’-3” and 200 lbs stature made him a force to be reckoned with. There were no signs that he leave us would early other than a very short life-line in the palm of his hand.

I believe that his upbringing and the leadership qualities he displayed at an early age are what helped him and, ultimately all of us, go through the difficulties of the last 2 years. His ability to be completely aware of the dire situation he was in and to also always remain hopeful, inspired all of us to stay strong and hopeful. He would sometimes call me in tears from the hospital after receiving another devastating news, I would rush over and we would cry together. And yet the next moment, he was up and ready to fight on, more determined than ever.

A few nights before his passing, he asked me how I was doing. I told him that I had my difficult moments, but that when I was with him, I tried to keep it together. He replied “that’s just unhealthy”. He felt that our family would do a whole lot better if we all faced our grief together with him. So I asked him if he would prefer that I share my grief with him in that moment. He said yes. So we held each other and we cried together. He held me and comforted me as I told him that I wanted to see him get a wife, have children and grow old. He would have been a great father.

Anyways, he was very happy we had this release together, and so was I. He wanted all of us to let go of the grief and fear and he was determined to help us do this. He helped all his siblings and I can remember a huge grin on his face after he had helped his brother David go through the same process.

On the last night I spent alone with him, Robert and David called me into his room at 1:30 am. We barely could make out what he was saying and he had limited ability to move his limbs. He wanted me to sleep beside him. I lay beside him and watched his chest rise with each short breath. Every hour or so he would open his eyes and look out the window at the night sky. At one point, he started singing the lullaby Cynthia received for him from his mom. When I burst into tears he looked at me surprised and said “What?” questioning why I was so sad. He turned towards me and we held each other through the night.

On his last night with us, Cynthia our devoted friend and spiritual advisor, Lee his beloved step mom, Travis and Izzy and his brothers Robert and David all took turns to watch over him. The support and love of many dear friends was also there with him that night. In a beautiful surrender Nicolas passed away peacefully, surrounded by his loving family.

I understand that the grief and loss is very raw for many who are here today and for many more who could not be here with us. To all of you, please know that we understand your grief and are extremely grateful for your concern. Nic wanted all of us to face our fears and grief and he understood the illusion that they all really are. He also wanted us to celebrate and I promise you there will be a celebration.

If I have gained anything from this experience it is that it helped me re-affirm my faith in the following:

That we are here to experience, to love, learn and grow.

That we are more than these frail bodies.

And that we need to learn to trust, trust, trust.

Finally in closing, I want to express our deepest gratitude to all who have contributed prayers, healing, food, money and other support towards Nic and our family. There are too many to name but you are all in our hearts and we are deeply thankful for your kindness and generosity.