“William Allan Peterkin”–  was clearly spoken with due respect and without the slightest hurry, in its proper position in the alphabetical listing of 182 men and women, who for the academic year 2012-2013 had donated their bodies to science, to the Division of Anatomy in the Department of Surgery at the University of Toronto. 

Allan’s name was spoken forth by a bright, pretty and young first year medical student at a Burial and Committal Service on June 6, 2013 at St. James’ Cemetery on Parliament Street in Toronto.  Most probably no one among the hundreds of family members, friends, medical students and faculty would have recognized the name except for me.

She will never know, but maybe William Allan Peterkin is the one this medical student fondly referred to as her “first patient”–  the one to whom she said she will always be grateful, because he taught her in an unforgettable way exactly where every part of a human body lies.  She will never know if her “first patient”–  was the dedicated pastor, the dramatic character who must now be delighting in the pastoral and compassionate antics of Pope Francis, and the faith-filled Jesuit we teased and mocked to his great delight. 

Later during the service in a most eloquent “Personal Story of Gratitude” on behalf of all the first year students and faculty, Jamal Depradine spoke of the conversations he had with his “first patient”–  while he learned his anatomy from him.  As he studied and worked with his “first patient” –   who could have been Allan – he often wondered and asked “What did you do with your life?  Where did you travel?  What were your dreams?  Whom did you love?  What is it like to get old?  What would you like to say to me as a young medical student just starting off?” –   And he tried to respond to what he thought might be Allan’s–“questions” to him –  “What are your hopes, and fears?  Do you have a girlfriend? What would you like to do with your life?”

The Anglican priest presiding at the memorial service preached about the last act of love these donors had made in giving their bodies to science.  And I thought to myself, but in the Communion of Saints this donation was not Allan’s last act.  From heaven he will eagerly continue to help his family members, his fellow Jesuits, his many friends, and all kinds of people, especially outcasts, in whatever their struggle might be. 

After the homily a choir of medical students without any hymnal or song page, but with fresh, kind smiles sang ‘In Remembrance’–  by Eleanor Daley.  The lyrics ‘Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die.’–  seemed so true for me and maybe for others that day.  A young man next to me in the chapel said,  “I am not a religious man, but my father, my sister and I are here to honour my mother who was unable as she had wanted to donate her living organs at death to help others, so she gave her body to science.” 

The ceremony concluded with lots of almost happy tears on the faces of mourners, with clear respect and gratitude evident in the formal dress of the medical students and with a piper who led us all to the gravesite for a few more prayers in the gentle rain, for the individual placing of flowers and the throwing of handfuls of sand into the grave and for the concluding and comforting words, “May they rest in Peace”.  But for Allan this will not be the last memorial.  Soon we will gather in the Jesuit Cemetery in Guelph where Allan’s ashes will be buried next to his Jesuit brothers.  And again and again in countless Allan Peterkin stories, he will always be affectionately remembered to us as an outlandish eccentric, a faithful, a zealous and much loved Jesuit.