I am hoping that writing this will help those who struggle with the death of a loved one to realize that crises is part of the mourning process. While we all deal with death in different ways, we are all connected by the feeling of loss, maybe anger and confusion, and yet our faith helps us to realize that death is not the end of everything, it is the beginning of new life. While those who are left behind have to struggle emotionally, physically and psychologically, the dead rest in the peace of Christ. Here is my account of the journey to Nigeria for the funeral of my sister Blessing:
As I prepared and did the last minutes errands before travelling back to Nigeria for the second time in a month and three days, this time, the mood was quite sombre. I cannot stop thinking of the final goodbye I said to Blessing, her attempt at saying goodbye (with all the efforts made, her voice box and her brain somehow could not get the words out). I contemplated the tears running down my cheeks as I realized that I would probably never see Blessing alive again, at least in the physical sense. I know that she is asleep in Christ and that she will be raised from the dead to enjoy everlasting life. The questions kept running through my mind: Is this real or am I just having a really bad nightmare? Is this such nightmare that one wakes up sweating only to realize it was not real? I kept hoping to wake up from this bad nightmare and yet I still found myself going through the motions of booking my flight, calling mom and my siblings constantly to make arrangements for the funeral service, and speaking to people who called to express their condolence.
The next day after Blessing died, I was supposed to concelebrate at a funeral for one of our parishioners but the raw emotions that welled through my entire being were so much that I had to send a message to the family to express my condolence but also my disappointment that I was not able to be there for them in their hours of need. While I felt bad about this, I also recognized that I would not have been able to go through that celebration without breaking down. No matter how much one knows that his/her loved one is dying, there is often the shock of realizing that the reality of death once the person dies. That shock can be tremendous and often unexpectedly unpredictable.
That Saturday afternoon I wondered how the rest of the weekend would develop – how am I going to be able to go through the celebration of the Eucharist on Saturday evening and on Sunday morning? I know that Blessing would probably not want me to miss the celebration of the Eucharist because she died, she probably would have wanted me to celebrate it in spite of the difficulty I may face with immersing myself into the mystery of our relationship with God in such a public ceremony while handling an emotional crisis of such magnitude. I am certain of this assertion because it dawned on me that even when she first started losing the ability to speak, she was still able to respond to most of the responses at the daily masses we celebrated the last week of my visit. She was a person of incredible faith and even her fight with cancer could not break that bond of faith.
While still running around and getting ready to travel, I was also privileged to encounter many parishioners in ways I never imagined. Blessing had truly been a blessing to many of us. The outpouring of emotions and support after the announcement of her death was made at the three weekend masses surprised me! While I expected some condolences, the rate and sincerity touched the core of my being, and my family was incredibly touched by the Mass cards and other gifts. I knew that if I came to mass early and get emotional, I would not be able to go through the celebration, so I decided to come to mass just a few minutes before each mass and to avoid both eye contacts and questions about Blessing (which many people ask out of care and concern). During the celebration of the 5.30pm Mass, I was doing okay until Blessing’s name was mentioned during the Prayers of the Faithful in which her name was moved from the sick to the dead. At that moment, I had a lump in my throat, eyes welled with tears and with my voice shaking, I managed to say the concluding for the prayers. From then on, I hoped that nothing else would be that emotional because I knew I was on the verge of breaking down. Thankfully I was able to hold myself until the end of the Mass when I formally informed the parishioners of Blessing’s passing on and asking for their prayers for the repose of her soul as well as for prayers for the whole family and especially for my mother. As soon as I got to the back entrance, I could no longer control my emotions, I burst into the Sophia room and cried! After crying and letting out some of the bottled-up emotions, I felt better and then came out and was able to talk with people. Hugs had never made more meaning nor been able to bring such comfort as they did that evening.
The next two Masses were equally packed with emotions. Thankfully I was able to get through the celebrations. While I considered cancelling all the weekday masses, I decided that I wanted to celebrate them even if only for the benefit of getting the graces I needed for my impending journey to Nigeria. I am thankful for the many friends, parishioners and members of the Association of Nigerians in Nova Scotia who dropped-in at the house, called or sent cards.
In spite of her death, there were several subtle miracles throughout her last few months. When Blessing called to tell me that she would like to “visit” Nigeria, I thought she meant going there for the Christmas celebration but she told me that it was to be for the month of September. While we talked about this, I perceived that she really wanted to go between two certain days. Now I realize why she chose these days – if she did not get to Nigeria on the day she did, she would have had the mini-stroke she had at the Murtala Muhamed International Airport, Lagos elsewhere in the United States, and would not have been able to return to Nigeria by herself nor alive. It is divine providence which guided her to make that decision. When we talked about her visit, she kept insisting that even if there was nothing else to be done in Nigeria, she would at least be close to “the people who love me, those I have not seen in a long time.”
Just before returning to Nigeria, Blessing spent three quality weeks with her son Kevin, and as if she knew that it would be her last with him, took him out for all kinds of adventures and activities they normally would not embark on – they went to downtown Seattle for a tour of the city using the harbour-hopper car-boat, they saw all kinds of places of interest and went on different rides. She called more often than she used to. While chatting with her, I felt an energy that was not always there emanate from her within that period. What grace God gave to her and Kevin as they spent this time together. Little did we anticipate that this may be her final farewell to him, at least in the physical sense of it. Reflecting on these two events – her choice of the date to go, and her spending the quality time with Kevin – I now realize that somehow she may have felt that her time was drawing close.
As I started planning for the funeral for Blessing, I realized that it would probably be the most difficult celebration of the Eucharist I will ever have. Not only am I in agony at her death, I was having a real crisis of faith. Intellectually I understand that one will eventually die but emotionally, I was not prepared for how to feel at the loss of a younger sibling. From the day she was informed of the cancer diagnosis, all her friends, our friends and strangers who never met her started praying for healing. I often had confidence that God would answer my prayers (but maybe it was because he had always answered them according to my “will and demand”). I must say that I felt disappointed that my prayers were not granted in the manner I wanted. This I have come to realize is probably in line with the reasoning behind the Letter to the Hebrews’ indication that God answered the prayers of Christ, and yet he had to die! I think that in his humanity Christ must have felt extremely frustrated that God was not willing to take the cup away from him, yet he believed and had the courage to utter these words “Not my will but your will be done.” I felt like all my prayers and those of the many people who prayed for her did not reach God’s ears or maybe he turned his ears away. My biggest struggle has to do with the reality that I found it difficult to reconcile being a priest who struggled to the best of my ability to do what I believe to be right and the possibility that God would not answer my prayers for healing, not even for me, but for my sister. While this may seem trivial, this was a real emotional, creedal and personal crisis. This was contrary to my experience with God. I recalled an incident that affirmed my belief in God. I was about 9 years old, one bright late afternoon my mother sent me to go to the corner-store and buy some cooking ingredients. As I got the soccer field and saw my peers playing, I decided to join them. By the time I realized it, the corner-store was already closed, it was dark and there was no place around there I could buy the stuff she wanted. I prayed that “if God exists, mom will not ask me for what she sent me to buy until tomorrow afternoon.” God granted this as mom did not ask me any question that night, and of course the next day on my way from school I bought the ingredients. As soon as I got to the door, she wanted what she sent me to buy because she needed to use them. This confirmed to my childish mind that there is God and that he answers prayers. But how can he not answer my and other people’s prayers for Blessing? In the midst of all this, I was also supposed to be the strong one who minister to my family and others who were close to Blessing. While all these thoughts fleet through my mind, I started to pray, “God I believe, help my unbelief.” The crisis finally subdued the following day as I woke up in the morning to prepare for the Sunday mass. I felt an incredible peace which was beyond my comprehension. As I went to mass that morning I thought about the possibility that people who are about to die sometimes feel a peace and presence which cannot be described by words. Throughout the day as I talked with family and friends, I realized that the process of healing begins with acceptance of the reality that death brings to an end the earthly life of our loved ones and the resolve to face death as a reality in life.
THE FUNERAL
Preparing for the day of the funeral was the easier part, taking the long flight to Nigeria was a journey of emotions – thoughts of our growing up in the family, my visits to Seattle and the vivid images of all that had happened in Blessing’s life, all the treatments she had undergone both conventional and eventually naturopathic, Kevin growing up without his mother (and what that would mean for any child), how the funeral mass would be celebrated, the love and care from so many people, fear of family members breaking down emotionally, possibility that I was still having a bad nightmare from which I would wake up to realize I was just dreaming and yet knowing that this was real. Sometimes the emotions would come with pain, at other times there was no way of describing them, yet they were there. There were moments of peace too – she is now resting. She is with dad who died in 2009.
As I write this, I recalled the dream Blessing had in July of 2009, a dream she kept from all of us but had it written on a piece of paper we found in her luggage after she died. She narrated how after dad died, he was beckoning to mom to come to him. Blessing was standing by and telling dad to leave mom for us, but dad insisted that he wanted her because he loved her. The rest of the story pointed to Blessing’s life. Mom and I found this piece of paper in Blessing’s address book while we were going through her things two days before her funeral. She had somehow known that her death was quite imminent and that she needed to get things ready for us. Knowing that Blessing thought about everyone else even in the midst of her suffering speaks to the kind of person she was.
I got to Nigeria and after embracing family members, crying on each other’s shoulder and sharing the story of what really happened on the day Blessing died, I felt the emptiness that comes with loss. One thing that happened before Blessing died kept coming to mind. On that Friday morning (Nigerian time, afternoon) I called as usual to find out how things were going. Mom told me that Blessing seemed to be quite awake (after sleeping for days and waking up for only a few minutes per day). The nurses and hospital staff were all amazed as she would smile at them when they called her name. Many of those who went to see her on that day also felt that she was quite alert. Though it crossed my mind that this may be a farewell moment, I never thought about it again until I got the dreaded call.
On Thursday November 25th, early in the morning the traditional cannon-gun salute which officially announced the death went off. As soon as this happened, mom started wailing and was joined by the women who were gathered there with her. This reminded me of the writing in the Book of Lamentations where Rachael wailed for her children and refused to be consoled. The wailing lasted for about 45 minutes to an hour. Thinking of it, I now realize that it provided the avenue to get the emotions out. Hearing the wailing of the women and seeing mom wail for her daughter was heartbreaking and of course, my tears were running down like rain water. While not wailing most of the men let the tears out. Soon after this, there is the playing of Christian Gospel music which would last all day until the evening when the wake-keeping started.
Just before 10 AM, I took the young people from the kindred whose job it is to dig the grave of any kinsperson that dies (collective effort of all the young adults) to the place we decided that Blessing was to be buried. They started the digging of the grave while we provided drinks and food for them. All this was done by hand with the use of the digger and shovels. By around 2.30 PM, the grave was dug and ready.
At about 7 PM, we started the wake-keeping at the house. The music was provided by the live band of the Catholic Charismatic Movement of the parish in which we grew up in Emene, Enugu. Many of the members also knew Blessing personally as she was actively involved in the parish and in different sodalities while growing up there. At 8.00pm we held a vigil mass, officiated by one of the four priests in attendance. After the mass, there was music, eating, drinking and dancing which lasted until about 2 AM. At 8 AM those who would be on the motorcade from the mortuary with the hearse carrying her remains left to go to Enugu.
When they called to let us know that they were about to leave the mortuary, I decided to prepare myself for celebrating the funeral. I went into one of the rooms, locked the door and cried to let out the steam. I wanted to let the emotions out so as to be able to at least last through the celebration of the Eucharist. When they got closer to the house, I went to the gate to welcome her body which laid in state in the living room. This was followed by prayers by the priests and nuns present. Immediately after this, the Eucharistic celebration started in front of the house. Often the funeral mass is celebrated in the parish church, however it can also be celebrated in front of one’s family home. The mass started, the emotions sought ways to erupt but I did my best to keep them in check as I knew that if I let them out, I would not be able to continue as the principal celebrant. I did okay until towards the end of the homily when I somehow thought about my last conversation with her. I had to end the homily immediately before breaking down. After Holy Communion, I sat on the presider’s chair and tears filled my eyes. All through the celebration, I kept gazing at mom who cried intermittently through the celebration, my older brother who could not control it for a moment, my older sister and my other siblings who sobbed throughout. I am still surprised that I managed to hold it for as long as I did. One of the priests present prayed the Final Commendation, then the body was taken to a piece of land that belongs to us where she was buried. Usually people are buried where the family has a piece of land, except for elders who are often buried inside their compounds. In most communities, there are no cemeteries (even in the big cities too. Mom could not bear to go to the graveside, nor was my older siblings.
As I did the prayer at the graveside, I knew that I would not be able to hold it anymore though I managed to finish the prayers. As soon as the body was lowered and the choir members started singing In Paradise, I thought to myself and said it audibly, “this is real! This is real! She is dead!” My breathing became more rapid, I was struggling to breathe through my mouth and was almost losing consciousness, I started to hyperventilate, clutching on the priest and the nun by my sides. My heartbeat was so hard and I could hear my heart pounding! I thought I was going to die. I whispered for the holy water to be given to me and drank from it. Then I started crying and wailing, “No, this cannot be true! My baby sister is dead! No, God, no!..” I could also hear my other family members wailing. The priests and nuns tried to comfort me and to keep me from fainting and falling into the grave (I was standing close to grave for the prayers). I heard a woman’s voice say to the priests and nuns, “Let him cry, it is his sister that is being buried. He is also human!” I think this was one of the wisest sayings so far. If I did not let out the bottled-up emotions, I was almost certain that my heart would have broken literarily. I started feeling a little better after crying out. Eventually I joined the choir in singing the songs while the grave was being filled by the young men who dug it the day before.
I found myself thinking of all the struggles Blessing faced especially from the day she returned to Africa until her death. I kept thinking of the countless days of sorrow she must have endured, especially the sorrow of knowing that one was dying, hoping for a miracle and yet watching one’s frame and flesh being wasted by cancer. The most poignant moment of all was her looking at the mirror one day, sitting down and crying for hours – cancer changed her appearance. There was nothing left of her but her bony frame. For this reason all the mirrors in the house were taken down. I find myself thinking of the feeling of the loss of ability to control one’s bowl movement, continence and the apparent sense of the loss of dignity when one cannot take care of the things we take for granted like taking a shower/bath. The days I spent with mom and Blessing while she was sick helped me to see things from a different perspective – the agony of parents who take care of their grown children who are either sick, challenged or infirmed. While they do these incredible jobs with joy and grace, I cannot stop thinking of the reality that this is not the way things should work. Parents are supposed to take care of their children until they grow up, then the children are supposed to show their appreciation by reciprocating and taking care of their parents in old age. How can one reconcile the reality that mom took care of Blessing in infancy and again as an adult? How can one reconcile the reality that Blessing was not able to take care of her son Kevin until he becomes an adult? How can one reconcile the reality that it seems unfair for a younger person to die before the parent(s)? I found myself feeling for all the parents who carry the burden of having to bury their own children (in infancy or as grown-ups). What goes on in the mind of a parent whose child dies? It was at that moment that I felt the peace of knowing that “the battle” was over for her. She was no longer in physical, mental, psychological or emotional pain, anguish or agony. She is resting in peace in God’s presence.
During the celebration of the Eucharist on the Sunday after the funeral service for Blessing, the homily drifted from the readings to encouragement to all whose loved ones died. I reflected on the fact that people die at different ages and that God must have a reason which we may not fully understand at the present for allowing things to go the way they do. I thought about people like the Holy Innocents who died in infancy at the hands of others, people who lived to be old like Abraham, people who died in-between like Christ who died at around the age 33. What united all those who knew these people is their sense of sorrow at the parting of a loved one, but then the sorrow would differ depending on the individual’s age. What sort of questions would have crossed the minds of the parents of the Holy Innocents in the Bible, and those of the many holy innocents being killed in our world today – people who die as a result of the stupid decisions of others. What emotions flood the mind when a parent faces the individual responsible for the death of her/his child? What are the emotions that flood the minds of a parent whose poor judgement leads to the death of a child? How did Mary feel at the judgement, passion and death of her son Jesus Christ? How does it feel to helplessly watch a loved one go through so much suffering, and eventually die? While dying in old age can be a Blessing, does it diminish the feeling of shock and loss that comes with death? Not really!
The days for my return drew near, the funeral was over, more people came to visit at the house. Soon we all realized how tired everyone had become, especially mom who only slept at home for two nights all through Blessing’s hospitalization. We needed to rest. Though mom was not sure if she was becoming sick or was just tired, she decided to rest for a couple of days – no work, just sleep, wake, eat, sleep, wake, eat… it seemed to be doing the magic. However, on the day before I left to go to Lagos on my way back, it seemed like we all re-lived the sorrow as we told stories that night. Early the following morning I was up to get ready for the bus ride. We gathered in the living room, said some prayers together, said tearful goodbyes and hugged before I left for the bus station. The first hour in the bus was quite sombre and provided a period for reflection. Though our bus was delayed for three hours due to mechanical problem that started just about 45 minutes into the ride, no one seemed to mind (or at least verbalize it).
The reality of all that happened in the last few weeks hit me as soon as our flight left Lagos for Paris. I started thinking, “so this is it? So it will now be said, “when Blessing was alive?” So it is a reality that I cannot call her phone number and hear her voice again? (I called her phone number a few days after she died to confirm to myself but her voicemail was full). The image of her in the casket and the covering of the grave kept coming back to mind. I wondered what those who knew her and had hoped that she would return from her “short” visit to Africa would be thinking. The tears started rolling down my cheeks. I did not realize I still had any tears to shed after all these days, but I decided to let it out if it comes. For a time, I thought that I would soon be an emotional wreck but I knew that tears bring healing. Intermittently I found myself thinking of the many people who have been of support to our family during this process and praying that God may reward them immensely, but more especially, that they may be spared going through the death of a young sibling or child.
What was the lesson in all this? I think the biggest lesson is to be there for your loved ones and to make sure that one would do all s/he can to help them when one can. I have also learned to make sure that we appreciate our loved ones and let them know how much we love them. Death can exert a hard blow on people when a loved one dies, but our faith is in Christ who battled and won over death helps us to hang in and not loose hope. His promise holds true for all who live their faith in him, “I am going to my Father and to your Father. I am going to prepare a place for you so that where I am you too may be.” While the passion and death of Christ presented a sort of crisis of faith in the Father, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” it also presented a moment of intense surrender to the will of God, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” The death of a loved one often presents moments of questions, doubts, and maybe crisis of faith, but at the end, one has to realise that these moments present us with the opportunity to re-affirm our faith in God, our creedal conviction as stated in the Apostle’s and Nicene Creed.
A copy of my homily for the funeral will be posted on my blog as soon as I listen to it and write it down.
I will also be adding clips of video from the funeral as soon as I have enough time to process and edit them.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Moments after Blessing died
Today has been a day of emotional ups and downs as we strive to grasp the mystery of death and how it affects us as a family. Though I knew that the day would probably come soon, I did not expect Blessing to leave us so soon. Her death has taken the wind off the sail and then, there is the calmness of being in the presence of God. The battle is over, the victory is won, as Paul asks, "death, where is your victory, death, where is your sting?" Eternal life wins over death.
On behalf of my family, thank you for your prayers and support. They mean so much for me and my family, especially for my mother who truly appreciates it. It was heartbreaking to talk with mom soon after Blessing died. Nothing can ever prepare one for the death of a loved one even though we may know that it is coming. I thought that going through dad's sudden death was enough shock, but this one is even more painful. After I spoke with mom, I took out one of my picture albums and started going through it, and th etears rolled down as I watched my beautiful sister and thought of all that she had gone through in this life. I am encouraged by the reality that she is now enjoying "eternity with God." I am sure she and Denis will get to meet and that someday we all will get to be there with them. Ironically I asked at mass last Sunday if anybody wanted to go to heaven, and all raised their hands, but when I asked if anyone wanted to die, none did. While it may not only be as a result of not being sure how eternity feels, I think that the realization of the pains those left behind feel is strong enough reason.
I needed that time immediately after the news to talk with family and try to calm everyone down and for us to seek some healing. We prayed over the phone and commended her soul into the hands of God. It was probably the send most difficult prayer I ever said, first was for my father. The pain can be deeper than words can explain. While our pains may not be taken away, the love of family and friends diminishes that. It has been an emotional roller-coaster but it is expected. All of you who have gone through such loss (God's gain) understand what it feels like. Thanks for your words of encouragement.
My biggest pain now is talking with Blessing's Kevin and trying to help him understand that mommy still loves him even though he will not be seeing her for a long time. I know he understands the concept of angels and so "mommy is his special angel." I believe that children as well as adults go through the grieving process and each one adjusts and copes according to her/his capacity. Please keep Kevin in your prayers as he will have to grow up without the love of his mother, but not without our love. We see Blessing in him and we love him as much as we love her.
On behalf of my family, thank you for your prayers and support. They mean so much for me and my family, especially for my mother who truly appreciates it. It was heartbreaking to talk with mom soon after Blessing died. Nothing can ever prepare one for the death of a loved one even though we may know that it is coming. I thought that going through dad's sudden death was enough shock, but this one is even more painful. After I spoke with mom, I took out one of my picture albums and started going through it, and th etears rolled down as I watched my beautiful sister and thought of all that she had gone through in this life. I am encouraged by the reality that she is now enjoying "eternity with God." I am sure she and Denis will get to meet and that someday we all will get to be there with them. Ironically I asked at mass last Sunday if anybody wanted to go to heaven, and all raised their hands, but when I asked if anyone wanted to die, none did. While it may not only be as a result of not being sure how eternity feels, I think that the realization of the pains those left behind feel is strong enough reason.
I needed that time immediately after the news to talk with family and try to calm everyone down and for us to seek some healing. We prayed over the phone and commended her soul into the hands of God. It was probably the send most difficult prayer I ever said, first was for my father. The pain can be deeper than words can explain. While our pains may not be taken away, the love of family and friends diminishes that. It has been an emotional roller-coaster but it is expected. All of you who have gone through such loss (God's gain) understand what it feels like. Thanks for your words of encouragement.
My biggest pain now is talking with Blessing's Kevin and trying to help him understand that mommy still loves him even though he will not be seeing her for a long time. I know he understands the concept of angels and so "mommy is his special angel." I believe that children as well as adults go through the grieving process and each one adjusts and copes according to her/his capacity. Please keep Kevin in your prayers as he will have to grow up without the love of his mother, but not without our love. We see Blessing in him and we love him as much as we love her.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Rest In Peace Little Sister
Today at about 9.15pm (Nova Scotian time, about 2.15am Nigerian time) I got a call from my mother. As soon as her number appeared on the phone, I knew that "this was it!" In the midst of her sobbing I said, "Blessing is dead!" and she sobbed, "Let it not happen again" (in Igbo language, OZOEMENA).
Finally my beloved younger sister Blessing has gone to be with God. As I spoke with mom and try to calm her down, my eyes welled up with tears, a lump on my throat, and amidst the indescribable pain I assured her that Blessing is in a better place. Not that I remember all we spoke about except that I tried to be on the phone with her for that first moment and while I let her cry (she needed to), I also intermittently reminded her that Blessing is at peace in the presence of Our Father.
Blessing has carried her cross in life, suffered both physically and emotionally. Now the battle with cancer is over, and Blessing won! She won because she no longer suffer in her body nor emotionally, she won because she is in a better place, the one place we all long to go though we are often afraid to face death. She was a brave fighter. Her courage in the face of illness and "pain" teaches us to embrace life and all it brings and to entrust everything in the hands of God. May she rest in peace. We love you but God loves you the most.
Thank you all for your prayers. I am sure that her suffering was tempered by the effects of your prayers. Please pray especially for my mother who has gone through a lot in the past two years. Her faith inspires all of us.
I will keep you informed.
Finally my beloved younger sister Blessing has gone to be with God. As I spoke with mom and try to calm her down, my eyes welled up with tears, a lump on my throat, and amidst the indescribable pain I assured her that Blessing is in a better place. Not that I remember all we spoke about except that I tried to be on the phone with her for that first moment and while I let her cry (she needed to), I also intermittently reminded her that Blessing is at peace in the presence of Our Father.
Blessing has carried her cross in life, suffered both physically and emotionally. Now the battle with cancer is over, and Blessing won! She won because she no longer suffer in her body nor emotionally, she won because she is in a better place, the one place we all long to go though we are often afraid to face death. She was a brave fighter. Her courage in the face of illness and "pain" teaches us to embrace life and all it brings and to entrust everything in the hands of God. May she rest in peace. We love you but God loves you the most.
Thank you all for your prayers. I am sure that her suffering was tempered by the effects of your prayers. Please pray especially for my mother who has gone through a lot in the past two years. Her faith inspires all of us.
I will keep you informed.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Little miracle in the midst of difficult situation
As I write this, I wonder what goes on in the minds of people who know that their days on earth are numbered. Pondering this reality may help each of us think of the deeper meanings to the mystery of life. I am certain that one's understanding of the after-earthly-life will have influence on how one handles this sort of situation. May God give us all the courage to face whatever may come our way and the possibility of the death of a loved one.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Update on Blessing
Once more, thank you so much for your prayers for Blessing and for my family. On Friday, October 15th, Blessing was admitted to the Annunciation Hospital where she underwent blood transfusion and, malaria treatment and was given some IVs. At this time, the doctors also noted that her blood pressure was quite low (her blood pressure is okay now). On the morning of the 15th, she was not able to eat, was barely conscious when they got her to the hospital. The doctors diagnosed that she was suffering from malaria. Presently, she is still recovering at the hospital and they are taking good care of her. While the prognosis does not look good, we keep praying that God's will may be done in her life.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
My Journey to Nigeria (continued)
The days started with getting Blessing to the bathroom for a bath, dressing her and getting her to the family room where we would have a celebration of the Eucharist at around 8.00am. What a blessing this was to all of us as we journey with God in this struggle. Intricately connected to the Eucharistic celebration is a faith-filled understanding of struggles for those who face death, just as Christ had after the last supper. This usually set the tone for each day. It is interesting to think that the readings for the last two weeks of the period I was visiting and celebrating the Eucharist were from the Book of Job. While the book of Job presents raw emotions with regards to dealing with personal tragedy, it then occurred to me that each person’s tragedy can be related to that of others and that people go through similar emotions as they struggle with handling what life throws at them. We can all see something of ourselves in the life and struggles of Job.
On Friday, I devised a way to get around with Blessing. I would stand behind her and get her right leg on top of my right leg, with both hands I would hold her from under both armpit so that I may support her weight, then I would invite her to move her left leg forward without my help, and then I will move my right leg forward. This required having good balance and worked for us. This was also done in a bid to stimulate her muscles and coax her to respond to my invitations for her to use the right side which was partially paralyzed. At this point, she was still able to respond in two or three words. I could feel the desire and longing to survive this illness. This was a weekend of gains and losses. One poignant moment was when she tried lifting the glass of water to drink by herself. She was able to hold it with both hands but every effort to get it up to her mouth did not yield the desired result. Finally I reached out to help her drink from the cup. That night as I laid in bed, I wondered how the human brain works and how difficult and frustrating it must be for Blessing to try to do something we all take for granted – drinking from a cup – and not be able to do so. I wondered how frustrating it must be for all those who loose the ability to do something they were so used to doing. How could one reconcile the apparent loss of the ability to do simple things as one’s body becomes weak, the muscles shrink, and unable to carry out commands/message from the brain even when the message is understood? It was quite painful to watch that drama unfold. But it was not a drama! This is life, REAL!
On Sunday one of Blessing’s schoolmate and friend came to visit. She was shocked at how much Blessing had changed physically though she tried to put on a brave face. I know it is difficult for people who had not followed her through the process to see her at this stage. She has lost so much weight, recognizes people and once in a while could call people by name, but not able to carry on conversation except by signing or squeezing one’s fingers. I wondered what she thought as all these people came in to see her, what she thought about her inability to communicate and let people know what she thought. I also know that she felt the love from all of us.
On the day before I left Enugu to return to Canada, I had a chat with Blessing. I call it a chat because she communicated by squeezing my hand when I ask her questions. It was a painful heart-to-heart chat. I gave her a hug and as I left her bedroom, I wondered if this would be the last time I would be able to communicate with her in this manner. Later that night mom came into my bedroom for a chat. She wanted to know what I want her to do in case Blessing died while I was on my way. I told her that if anything happened, I would like to celebrate the funeral. We had a long chat which made me feel better as I was unsure how mom would feel about such topics as to what to do should the kind of miracle we pray for not materialize. Knowing that mom is ready for whatever the will of God may be gave me the assurance that they will be okay even without me being physically present.
Early the next morning, I got ready to go to the bus station. We gathered as a family to say a morning prayer. We sang some spontaneous songs, said some prayers and then comes one of the most difficult moments in my life, saying goodbye. As I sat on the edge of Blessing’s bed, I told her again that I was about to go to the bus station en route to Canada. Mom sat by the door watching. I held Blessing’s hand and told her that she will be in my prayers and that God is with her in her struggles. After a few words of encouragement, I leaned over and gave her a long hug. Mom could not hold it anymore so she left the room. When I was about to stand, my niece walked into the room. She sat by the bedside while I stroked Blessing’s hands, told her I love her and slowly made my way to the door. My heart was broken as I watched her trying to say something but the words could not come out. What a moment! It is impossible to express the emotions in words. All I remember is that I let the tears out all the way to the bust station.
When the bus left the station, there was a preacher who prayed with all in the bus. I realized that each bus owner employs the preachers to pray with the passengers. As we journeyed, I kept thinking of the comments made by the preacher in the bus I took the day I travelled from Lagos to Enugu. He said something to the effect that the bus owner, the driver, nor indeed anyone else but God had anything to do with the bus getting us to our destination. He also exaggerated the power of the devil by indicating that if everyone in the bus did not pray, the devil could work through the individual to effect an accident along the way. I remember asking the preacher for his phone number and calling him days after I got to Enugu. When I called him, I explained to him that while not disregarding the power of the devil, we need to stop giving credit to the devil for what the devil did not do. The fact is that the driver had much to do with the bust getting to its destination. If the driver did not get enough sleep or takes any mood changing substance, he would be risking people’s life. Along the same line, if the owners do not maintain their vehicle, the mechanical/physical laws would be disobeyed thereby rendering everyone’s life in danger as the vehicle could crash due to the parts not working well together. Since the roads have been neglected by the government, it is dangerous for people to travel on such roads. My goal was to get the preacher to see that some of the things people blame the devil for are results of neglect or people not fulfilling their responsibilities. While the devil has power, people need to be clear on what irresponsibility by others can effect and what the devil can effect. He was initially defensive but later agreed with most of my points. I did not expect him to agree wholly with me.
During the bus ride from Enugu to Lagos, I reflected on the good, the bad, and the somewhere in-between experiences I had throughout this process. It was nice to have this opportunity to be there for mom and my other family members as we go through this process.
More installments to follow
On Friday, I devised a way to get around with Blessing. I would stand behind her and get her right leg on top of my right leg, with both hands I would hold her from under both armpit so that I may support her weight, then I would invite her to move her left leg forward without my help, and then I will move my right leg forward. This required having good balance and worked for us. This was also done in a bid to stimulate her muscles and coax her to respond to my invitations for her to use the right side which was partially paralyzed. At this point, she was still able to respond in two or three words. I could feel the desire and longing to survive this illness. This was a weekend of gains and losses. One poignant moment was when she tried lifting the glass of water to drink by herself. She was able to hold it with both hands but every effort to get it up to her mouth did not yield the desired result. Finally I reached out to help her drink from the cup. That night as I laid in bed, I wondered how the human brain works and how difficult and frustrating it must be for Blessing to try to do something we all take for granted – drinking from a cup – and not be able to do so. I wondered how frustrating it must be for all those who loose the ability to do something they were so used to doing. How could one reconcile the apparent loss of the ability to do simple things as one’s body becomes weak, the muscles shrink, and unable to carry out commands/message from the brain even when the message is understood? It was quite painful to watch that drama unfold. But it was not a drama! This is life, REAL!
On Sunday one of Blessing’s schoolmate and friend came to visit. She was shocked at how much Blessing had changed physically though she tried to put on a brave face. I know it is difficult for people who had not followed her through the process to see her at this stage. She has lost so much weight, recognizes people and once in a while could call people by name, but not able to carry on conversation except by signing or squeezing one’s fingers. I wondered what she thought as all these people came in to see her, what she thought about her inability to communicate and let people know what she thought. I also know that she felt the love from all of us.
On the day before I left Enugu to return to Canada, I had a chat with Blessing. I call it a chat because she communicated by squeezing my hand when I ask her questions. It was a painful heart-to-heart chat. I gave her a hug and as I left her bedroom, I wondered if this would be the last time I would be able to communicate with her in this manner. Later that night mom came into my bedroom for a chat. She wanted to know what I want her to do in case Blessing died while I was on my way. I told her that if anything happened, I would like to celebrate the funeral. We had a long chat which made me feel better as I was unsure how mom would feel about such topics as to what to do should the kind of miracle we pray for not materialize. Knowing that mom is ready for whatever the will of God may be gave me the assurance that they will be okay even without me being physically present.
Early the next morning, I got ready to go to the bus station. We gathered as a family to say a morning prayer. We sang some spontaneous songs, said some prayers and then comes one of the most difficult moments in my life, saying goodbye. As I sat on the edge of Blessing’s bed, I told her again that I was about to go to the bus station en route to Canada. Mom sat by the door watching. I held Blessing’s hand and told her that she will be in my prayers and that God is with her in her struggles. After a few words of encouragement, I leaned over and gave her a long hug. Mom could not hold it anymore so she left the room. When I was about to stand, my niece walked into the room. She sat by the bedside while I stroked Blessing’s hands, told her I love her and slowly made my way to the door. My heart was broken as I watched her trying to say something but the words could not come out. What a moment! It is impossible to express the emotions in words. All I remember is that I let the tears out all the way to the bust station.
When the bus left the station, there was a preacher who prayed with all in the bus. I realized that each bus owner employs the preachers to pray with the passengers. As we journeyed, I kept thinking of the comments made by the preacher in the bus I took the day I travelled from Lagos to Enugu. He said something to the effect that the bus owner, the driver, nor indeed anyone else but God had anything to do with the bus getting us to our destination. He also exaggerated the power of the devil by indicating that if everyone in the bus did not pray, the devil could work through the individual to effect an accident along the way. I remember asking the preacher for his phone number and calling him days after I got to Enugu. When I called him, I explained to him that while not disregarding the power of the devil, we need to stop giving credit to the devil for what the devil did not do. The fact is that the driver had much to do with the bust getting to its destination. If the driver did not get enough sleep or takes any mood changing substance, he would be risking people’s life. Along the same line, if the owners do not maintain their vehicle, the mechanical/physical laws would be disobeyed thereby rendering everyone’s life in danger as the vehicle could crash due to the parts not working well together. Since the roads have been neglected by the government, it is dangerous for people to travel on such roads. My goal was to get the preacher to see that some of the things people blame the devil for are results of neglect or people not fulfilling their responsibilities. While the devil has power, people need to be clear on what irresponsibility by others can effect and what the devil can effect. He was initially defensive but later agreed with most of my points. I did not expect him to agree wholly with me.
During the bus ride from Enugu to Lagos, I reflected on the good, the bad, and the somewhere in-between experiences I had throughout this process. It was nice to have this opportunity to be there for mom and my other family members as we go through this process.
More installments to follow
Saturday, September 25, 2010
My journey to Nigeria
As I prepared to embark on this journey, I quickly began to realize how uncertain life can be and how the things we know and take for granted can easily vanish - the hopes and dreams, relationships, and even our life on this earth. All that remains is memory of the beautiful and good old days of blissful living, a time of innocence when the notions of loss seemed remote and our own mortality seldom crossed one‘s minds. Now I have to return to reality.
I had known that this will probably be the most difficult journey of my life so far. As I prepare to go spend time with my younger sister who had been struggling with adult deep-tissue melanoma cancer for over six years, a sense of fear overwhelmed me, fear of the unknown, fear of another major goodbye within the span of a year and half (this could make it the third one unless there is divine intervention in accordance with my wishes). I also worry about our beloved mother who has gone through a lot within those years with the sudden death of my father through heart-attack, the death of my father’s only sister through my grandmother, and now the possibility of the death of her own daughter. In faith, I entrusted all in God’s hands. Now, it is time to face reality!
When I arrived in Lagos, Nigeria, I realized that in stead of the usual one hour ride from the airport to Enugu, I would need to go by bus. The local airport runway in Enugu had been closed for update and will not be opened until late this year or early next year. So after spending the night in Lagos, I decided to take the early bus for what should have been a five and half to six hours journey. The journey was delayed for over an hour as confusion reigned from the ticket sales, to the weighing station (for loads/luggages), to the tagging station (for tagging all lugages). In the end, the luggage loaders eventually loaded all goods and we boarded. This was actually the easiest part of this leg of the journey. So, our journey began, and on and on the driver slowly inches his way out of Lagos and on the road to Enugu.
As we journeyed on, we noticed every vehicle passing us. We started to joke about the possibility that we would be the last of the many buses to reach our destination. I looked and saw that the speed limit for this very ABC bus was 90km per hour! The air condition in the vehicle sounded like the engine of a small engine plane going through turbulence. The road conditions coupled with the aging bus did not help the matter. There were several sections of the stretch of the only highway that leads from the South Western city of Lagos to the South Eastern state of Enugu that are badly in need of repair. Needless to say that we also passed some vehicles that broke down, with people by the roadside waving to see if we had any space available, but we were fully loaded and had no unoccupied seat. So, the journey went on with a mixture of paved sections, dusty sections, bumpy washed off sections, pothole sections and some stretches of better paved sections. The one good thing is that the TV in the bus was not operating so we had time to chat, joke, talk about whatever we passes, some slept (and woke and slept and woke) while some just looked out the window.
Soon after the pit stop in Benin City, we continued as the sky started turning darker, then came the rain. It rained, and rained, and rained! Unfortunately even with the bad weather, some of the smaller buses “flew” past us. Just about five minutes after we left the pit stop, we came upon an accident that just occurred. It was heart-breaking to see the lifeless body of a baby by the road, and a couple of people still trying to make it out of the overturned vehicle. Some people stopped to offer help. As our journey continued, I wondered why this little baby had to loose her life (as well as the other people who died). I wondered why the driver did not slow down in spite of the heavy rain storm. While many of us complained about the slowness of our driver, I began to realize that if we sped, we may get to the limits of disobeying the law of physics - speed versus slippery condition. The higher the speed is on a slippery condition, the more difficult it is to control the vehicle and the more likelihood of an accident occurring. Maybe God has a reason for us entering the slow moving bus. By the time I finally got to my mother’s in Enugu, it was already 11.00pm. So, the journey which should have taken me just over five hours ended up taking me 17 hours!
As soon as I got into the house, I went straight to see Blessing. Though in bad health, she was so happy to see me. She smiled but could not say much. I gave her a hug and spent some time with her. Soon after, she went to sleep for the night. The following morning, we celebrated the Eucharist with Blessing, mom, my older sister Martina, my cousin Chidiebere, my younger brother Anthony, and my niece Chioma. I know that Blessing understood most of the things we did even if she was not responding nor using any of the gestures. During communion, she received the Body and Blood of our Lord by intinction. She surprised me by responding, Amen. She could still say one or two words at a time but not much more. I thank God for the blessing of being present to her at her hours of need and being a support for my mother and my other brothers, Ifeanyi, Celes, and Hilla who would most certainly like to be here with all of us but could not at the moment. I know they all struggle with the situation as well. We talk a few times each day over the phone and they all make sure to speak to Blessing even though she may not respond except to say “Hello.”
Monday afternoon presented some difficulty as I had to discuss with my mother the possibility that we may not receive the kind of miracle we have been praying for. Soon after, mom went into her room and sat on a chair by her prayer corner, prayed, cried and lamented. I can see the pains in her as we all gathered around her and tried to console her. It was very painful to see her going through this. Mom has not had it very easy, having lost both parents when she was still about 8 years and having moved from one uncle to the other until she was old enough and met my father. One would think that life would be easy on her, NO!. After being engaged to my father and going through the pre-marriage instructions given by the nuns in those days, mom was getting ready for their wedding which was already fixed when my father became sick. The illness was such that they had to cancel her wedding and wait for one more year while my father recovered. At a stage, she thought that my father was going to die and she told us that she prayed so much and told God that if he died, she too will be lost as she could not see life without him. Her prayers were answered, and he made a full recovery. Their wedding was celebrated by the whole parish both as a thanksgiving to God and as a way of sharing their special day with all the people who helped and stood by them during their months of trial.
Mom’s next big trial came when my grandmother became sick and was bedridden. Mom became her primary caretaker and even after it was virtually impossible for her to do much, she ended up being with her most of the days in the hospital. The practice in the hospitals in Enugu is that the family did all the cleaning, bathing and washing of the things their loved ones use. So, mom did all these with help from her friends and a few family members. She did this until my grandmother died. That is not the end of her ordeal! She also went through my father dying suddenly of heart-attack and the process of planning to bring his remains for funeral and burial in Nigeria. Just after a year of this happening, my aunt (my father’s only sister from my grandmother) died after a long period of And now this! So one can understand her lamentation. After praying through her tears, we all watched pictures of my nephew and niece in Switzerland.
Later on Monday evening, when I finally mustered the courage to do some spontaneous prayers, we had one as a family. We cried, prayed, moaned in pain, and entrusted Blessing’s situation to God inn whom we trust and still hope for a miracle however it pleases HIM. We know that God is in control. This prayer was probably the most heartfelt prayer I have ever had in my entire life.
On Tuesday morning we noticed some improvements on Blessing. She is able to say a few more words. We celebrated the Eucharist, then she was fed her breakfast by my sister Martina. After that, we all spent time in the family room until she seemed to be tired and we took her back to her room. She had a good sleep. When she woke up, we spent time with her and she was able to express that she had pain when I tried repositioning her in the bed. When I asked her if it was on her left or right side, she said, “right shoulder.” It gave me great joy to see that she was able to say this.
Reflection:
As we journeyed along the highway to Enugu, I realized that life has changed for ever for the family whose little child died from the accident along Benin expressway. I wondered what the other families whose loved ones died would feel. I also thought about the possibility that this could have been averted.
When mom prayed through her cries to God, I thought about what agony our Blessed mother must have gone through seeing her innocent child go through this excruciating process of carrying the cross for which he prayed that the father take away from him. Was he surprised that God did not respond the way he expected? Was he afraid of what was about to happen to him? You bet. Was he courageous to undergo it? Of course he was. Does it make it emotionally easier? Not really.
The moment that broke my heart was when mom told me that she took the mirror out of the room because on one occasion Blessing looked in the mirror and after seeing how much she changed, she started to cry. How horrible it must feel for anyone about to die, knowing that one is dying and not being able to do anything to reverse the situation. How does it feel to look so different from who knew yourself to be as a result of an illness like cancer?
As I write this, I just noticed that my tears are running down but this is just how it feels - a sense of helplessness but not hopelessness. How does it feel to know that one is losing all control, bowel and all liquid movements, motor movements, ability to articulate most things. How does it feel to hear what others are saying, want to respond to it and not be able to make out the words? How does one handle such moments of confusion when one is not sure if it is her/him or the other faces who do not understand what they want to communicate to each other?
In life, one needs to start planning in case of whatever situation s/he may encounter in the future, for the what ifs…. Life is unpredictable. Sometimes reality presents difficulties but faith in God can lead one through the most difficult situations.
I had known that this will probably be the most difficult journey of my life so far. As I prepare to go spend time with my younger sister who had been struggling with adult deep-tissue melanoma cancer for over six years, a sense of fear overwhelmed me, fear of the unknown, fear of another major goodbye within the span of a year and half (this could make it the third one unless there is divine intervention in accordance with my wishes). I also worry about our beloved mother who has gone through a lot within those years with the sudden death of my father through heart-attack, the death of my father’s only sister through my grandmother, and now the possibility of the death of her own daughter. In faith, I entrusted all in God’s hands. Now, it is time to face reality!
When I arrived in Lagos, Nigeria, I realized that in stead of the usual one hour ride from the airport to Enugu, I would need to go by bus. The local airport runway in Enugu had been closed for update and will not be opened until late this year or early next year. So after spending the night in Lagos, I decided to take the early bus for what should have been a five and half to six hours journey. The journey was delayed for over an hour as confusion reigned from the ticket sales, to the weighing station (for loads/luggages), to the tagging station (for tagging all lugages). In the end, the luggage loaders eventually loaded all goods and we boarded. This was actually the easiest part of this leg of the journey. So, our journey began, and on and on the driver slowly inches his way out of Lagos and on the road to Enugu.
As we journeyed on, we noticed every vehicle passing us. We started to joke about the possibility that we would be the last of the many buses to reach our destination. I looked and saw that the speed limit for this very ABC bus was 90km per hour! The air condition in the vehicle sounded like the engine of a small engine plane going through turbulence. The road conditions coupled with the aging bus did not help the matter. There were several sections of the stretch of the only highway that leads from the South Western city of Lagos to the South Eastern state of Enugu that are badly in need of repair. Needless to say that we also passed some vehicles that broke down, with people by the roadside waving to see if we had any space available, but we were fully loaded and had no unoccupied seat. So, the journey went on with a mixture of paved sections, dusty sections, bumpy washed off sections, pothole sections and some stretches of better paved sections. The one good thing is that the TV in the bus was not operating so we had time to chat, joke, talk about whatever we passes, some slept (and woke and slept and woke) while some just looked out the window.
Soon after the pit stop in Benin City, we continued as the sky started turning darker, then came the rain. It rained, and rained, and rained! Unfortunately even with the bad weather, some of the smaller buses “flew” past us. Just about five minutes after we left the pit stop, we came upon an accident that just occurred. It was heart-breaking to see the lifeless body of a baby by the road, and a couple of people still trying to make it out of the overturned vehicle. Some people stopped to offer help. As our journey continued, I wondered why this little baby had to loose her life (as well as the other people who died). I wondered why the driver did not slow down in spite of the heavy rain storm. While many of us complained about the slowness of our driver, I began to realize that if we sped, we may get to the limits of disobeying the law of physics - speed versus slippery condition. The higher the speed is on a slippery condition, the more difficult it is to control the vehicle and the more likelihood of an accident occurring. Maybe God has a reason for us entering the slow moving bus. By the time I finally got to my mother’s in Enugu, it was already 11.00pm. So, the journey which should have taken me just over five hours ended up taking me 17 hours!
As soon as I got into the house, I went straight to see Blessing. Though in bad health, she was so happy to see me. She smiled but could not say much. I gave her a hug and spent some time with her. Soon after, she went to sleep for the night. The following morning, we celebrated the Eucharist with Blessing, mom, my older sister Martina, my cousin Chidiebere, my younger brother Anthony, and my niece Chioma. I know that Blessing understood most of the things we did even if she was not responding nor using any of the gestures. During communion, she received the Body and Blood of our Lord by intinction. She surprised me by responding, Amen. She could still say one or two words at a time but not much more. I thank God for the blessing of being present to her at her hours of need and being a support for my mother and my other brothers, Ifeanyi, Celes, and Hilla who would most certainly like to be here with all of us but could not at the moment. I know they all struggle with the situation as well. We talk a few times each day over the phone and they all make sure to speak to Blessing even though she may not respond except to say “Hello.”
Monday afternoon presented some difficulty as I had to discuss with my mother the possibility that we may not receive the kind of miracle we have been praying for. Soon after, mom went into her room and sat on a chair by her prayer corner, prayed, cried and lamented. I can see the pains in her as we all gathered around her and tried to console her. It was very painful to see her going through this. Mom has not had it very easy, having lost both parents when she was still about 8 years and having moved from one uncle to the other until she was old enough and met my father. One would think that life would be easy on her, NO!. After being engaged to my father and going through the pre-marriage instructions given by the nuns in those days, mom was getting ready for their wedding which was already fixed when my father became sick. The illness was such that they had to cancel her wedding and wait for one more year while my father recovered. At a stage, she thought that my father was going to die and she told us that she prayed so much and told God that if he died, she too will be lost as she could not see life without him. Her prayers were answered, and he made a full recovery. Their wedding was celebrated by the whole parish both as a thanksgiving to God and as a way of sharing their special day with all the people who helped and stood by them during their months of trial.
Mom’s next big trial came when my grandmother became sick and was bedridden. Mom became her primary caretaker and even after it was virtually impossible for her to do much, she ended up being with her most of the days in the hospital. The practice in the hospitals in Enugu is that the family did all the cleaning, bathing and washing of the things their loved ones use. So, mom did all these with help from her friends and a few family members. She did this until my grandmother died. That is not the end of her ordeal! She also went through my father dying suddenly of heart-attack and the process of planning to bring his remains for funeral and burial in Nigeria. Just after a year of this happening, my aunt (my father’s only sister from my grandmother) died after a long period of And now this! So one can understand her lamentation. After praying through her tears, we all watched pictures of my nephew and niece in Switzerland.
Later on Monday evening, when I finally mustered the courage to do some spontaneous prayers, we had one as a family. We cried, prayed, moaned in pain, and entrusted Blessing’s situation to God inn whom we trust and still hope for a miracle however it pleases HIM. We know that God is in control. This prayer was probably the most heartfelt prayer I have ever had in my entire life.
On Tuesday morning we noticed some improvements on Blessing. She is able to say a few more words. We celebrated the Eucharist, then she was fed her breakfast by my sister Martina. After that, we all spent time in the family room until she seemed to be tired and we took her back to her room. She had a good sleep. When she woke up, we spent time with her and she was able to express that she had pain when I tried repositioning her in the bed. When I asked her if it was on her left or right side, she said, “right shoulder.” It gave me great joy to see that she was able to say this.
Reflection:
As we journeyed along the highway to Enugu, I realized that life has changed for ever for the family whose little child died from the accident along Benin expressway. I wondered what the other families whose loved ones died would feel. I also thought about the possibility that this could have been averted.
When mom prayed through her cries to God, I thought about what agony our Blessed mother must have gone through seeing her innocent child go through this excruciating process of carrying the cross for which he prayed that the father take away from him. Was he surprised that God did not respond the way he expected? Was he afraid of what was about to happen to him? You bet. Was he courageous to undergo it? Of course he was. Does it make it emotionally easier? Not really.
The moment that broke my heart was when mom told me that she took the mirror out of the room because on one occasion Blessing looked in the mirror and after seeing how much she changed, she started to cry. How horrible it must feel for anyone about to die, knowing that one is dying and not being able to do anything to reverse the situation. How does it feel to look so different from who knew yourself to be as a result of an illness like cancer?
As I write this, I just noticed that my tears are running down but this is just how it feels - a sense of helplessness but not hopelessness. How does it feel to know that one is losing all control, bowel and all liquid movements, motor movements, ability to articulate most things. How does it feel to hear what others are saying, want to respond to it and not be able to make out the words? How does one handle such moments of confusion when one is not sure if it is her/him or the other faces who do not understand what they want to communicate to each other?
In life, one needs to start planning in case of whatever situation s/he may encounter in the future, for the what ifs…. Life is unpredictable. Sometimes reality presents difficulties but faith in God can lead one through the most difficult situations.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)