They say, “a friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you forget how it goes.”

Dennis was the kind of friend who made you feel great in good times - every day in fact - just being with him - with his keen interest
in you - that great sense of humor - his calming presence - his spirit of “pitching in” and “going beyond” what was being asked - and
his exuberant hope.

And he made you feel better in difficult moments. Many would confide in him, as he would confide in you.

In so many ways he came to know the song in our hearts and sung it back to us when we had forgotten how to sing.

So, thanks, everyone, for coming to Christ the King today.  Thanks for coming and singing that same song of friendship to Dennis’
wonderful family, sitting here in front of me - and to his extended family - every other person here - for we were all his family.

I’d be a wealthy man if I had a dime for every person Dennis told me over the years:

“I’m very close to her”

“He’s one of my best friends”

“What a terrific person she is / he is”

“We go way back”

Always the colorful storyteller he’d go on and tell a story as to why he felt so good about someone.

***

It’s an honor to welcome our visiting priests who served with Dennis over the years…Donato Infante, Dennis Gallagher, Walter Riley,
Ed Chalmers, Pat Hawthorne, Mike DiGeronimo, Mike Broderick, Tom Egan, John Foley and Tim Brewer.

Father Reidy would certainly have been here but he is celebrating another funeral at this same hour.

Then there’s Father Paul O’Connell who was pastor here from the early 1980s to the early 90s. And Paul…there are many people
here who think the best thing you ever did was give Dennis to Christ the King. And Dennis used to tell the story. When Dennis was
to come over to be interviewed for the job he was instructed that the meeting would take place in the “Bridge Room.”

For those of you not familiar with us, our church was built first and the rectory a few years later and the buildings were connected by
a bridge, called the “bridge room.” Dennis thought this was where the priests played Bridge. “Boy, those priests don’t have much to
do over there…all they do is play Bridge.”

And, he thought, “If I don’t play Bridge do I lose the job?”

In the six-and-a-half years I’ve been here Dennis and I have probably worked together on 250 funerals - some large some small.

At one time he played for a lot of funerals for Frank Scollen over at St. John’s. Frank is here as well. And there was one time they
were doing what we priests call a “pauper funeral” - you know, a funeral for a poor man. Not one single person came to the funeral!
It was just Dennis and Frank. So, Dennis didn’t know what to do and he asked Frank and Frank said, “Play everything!” Dennis
used to tell me that story a lot before small funerals and then he’d roar laughing.

And when he told stories like these he was speaking with adulation about Frank - so often pointing out the goodness of someone
else.

Of course, no one liked Dennis’ stories more than Dennis…and no one laughed harder than he did when he told them…

Well, Dennis, we’re certainly going to “play everything today” - Right, choir?

Together we priests, our parish staff, Dennis’ choral colleagues, parishioners, and all these friends offer our condolences to you:

Catherine
                      
MaryAnne

Elizabeth, Andrea, Dennis, Nicky, Kristen, Shon

All your children

Linda, Jack, Denise

And Dennis’ nephews, nieces…

Thanks to all for coming to honor and pray for this good friend.

***

A week ago, when it was clear how very sick Dennis had become, I went to UMass to administer the Sacrament of the Anointing of
the Sick to him one final time. I had already done that in Portland on the first day of this sad story.

As you know, we priests celebrate this Sacrament under many circumstances - for those conscious or unconscious. In this case
neither his family nor I were sure if he was aware of what was happening. He was mostly in a deep sleep.

I was astounded and grateful, however, when each time the prayers called for a response he said, “Amen.” The prayers stirred him.
They roused him. The faith was in him - deeply imbedded.

And when the prayers were finished - to my surprise and that of his family - he slowly raised his left hand and reached for mine.

He reached out to grasp my hand with his…reached out to “touch”…as he had “touched” all of us in so many ways these many
years.

And I began to think about those powerful hands.

Those hands which had so gracefully arced a basketball through many a net at Power Memorial and Assumption College…

Those hands that touched piano and organ and keyboard so confidently they dazzled us and lifted our spirits…
Mass for Dennis C. Ferrante, January 26th, 2018

Homily by Monsignor Sullivan