Finally ready to let go

Today E would have been 61. While I still miss her - and wish she were here with us, I am at peace, finally, that she is not. The years of battling cancer were painful for her, she, who was so hyper-sensitive to pain. And in that last month of life, she had already checked out - she was no longer the interested, quietly vibrant personality who channelled God's wisdom to others so effortlessly. She was a barely discernible facsimile of her true self, vastly diminished by the process of dying.

So how has it been, living these coming to four years without her? I would like to think that I have grown in wisdom, that I have enlarged the space of my tent heaps. Hopefully she would applaud how I live my life, and that she is, even now, rejoicing with me, how I am actually seeing the fruit of my labour in my mission field: my family is thriving - husband, mother, children, grandchildren and siblings. My daily prayer that my marriage be a strong witness of nuptial loving and giving is answered: P and I are good together, and we are equally good for others, much more than if we were single or separate. Marriage suits us real fine. 

In E's death, she bequeathed me the gift of faithfulness. She was faithful to the One who loved her so unconditionally and tenderly, always giving, big of heart, never shortchanging Jesus at all if she could help it. Her integrity and unwavering passion won over so many hearts to Him, and I believe that she continues this work on earth through those hearts who are now striving to do likewise. 

When she left, I felt more keenly the challenge of trying to be like her, a fervent missionary disciple who sowed abundant seeds of faith wherever she went. As A texted me today, we, who loved her so much, now ask ourselves WWED* all the time. She is our role model and inspiration for godly living in her profound, intimate relationship with Jesus, and her BBF status with the Holy Spirit. 

No one could see so precisely into the heart of another, to tease out the goodness that was within so masterfully by the way she fully accepted the other unconditionally, for she saw through the eyes of Jesus, and she spoke with the heart of Jesus. She made you feel worthy of being loved, precious even. She brought you home into the arms of Jesus. And she challenged you to be more, always - magis.   

So my dearest coz, for very selfish reasons I miss you sorely, but I am truly elated that you are home with Jesus, probably suggesting to Him what He could do in your inimitable quirky manner. Heaven help Him! 

*What would E do?    

Celebrating 90

Abraham laughed* when he heard the news

Pregnant at 90 years old? Sarah laughed**, too.

Like them both, I am filled with mirth,  

At 90 months of marriage that have packed in

Several decades of experiences, intense, yet fulfilling.

My soul sings even as my body groans,

I am tired but remain light in spirit.

Life without you is unimaginable_

Joined as we are, annealed by His grace,

Matching passions, and shared loves,

Two hearts intent on just one thing:

His will in all things, marriage included.

So I give thanks for all the little graces

Victories, big and small, and I look forward

To more nuptial adventures, yet unwritten.

Come, dearest heart, grow old with me, the best is yet to be.

  

*Genesis 17:17

**Genesis 18:12 

Dying gifts

My mother-in-law passed away on the 21^st of May, followed shortly by my brother’s mother-in law on the 25^th, and just this Sunday, an elderly lady whom I met in Turkey. While each one will be sorely missed, all three lived long and venerable lives. What all three also held in common is the fact that their last days were marked by greatly diminished abilities, and suffering in that they were incapacitated for a prolonged period, although made as comfortable as possible through medical science.

The horror of dying and the inexorable process of shutting down triggers an immediate gut response and question: why do we not have the power to choose the time and manner of our own deaths? Grounded in the tenets of my faith, I know that the Creator and Author of life is the only one who gives and takes life, and as His creatures, made in His image and likeness, we respect that right, acknowledging the sanctity of life, and recognizing that death is but a transition to a new life of eternal bliss, in union with Him.

And yet, I am tempted to rebel when I see the weeks, months, and even years of prolonged suffering, living with limited mental or physical capabilities, where many become pale shadows of who they were, and turn into querulous, depressed or intransigent beings.

However, if I look deeper beneath the surface of the semantics of dying, I can see that God never abandons us, Jesus is always walking with us, and there are many opportunities for grace, abundant blessings, all teaching me how to be a better person, more human, that is, to be patient, steadfast, forbearing, gentle, compassionate, generous, merciful… the list goes on.

Even though the dying person may not be conscious, he or she can bless those around them in innumerable ways. The ones who are present for the journey gain much, even if they themselves suffer much from witnessing the process of dying firsthand.

Looking back on my own journeying with people, I can see I have been given valuable gifts. My dying father gave me the gift of faith, my dying aunt gave me the gift of hope, my dying cousin gave me the gift of faithfulness, and my mother-in-law has given me the gift of piety, the wonderful gift of how to be dutiful and virtuous, and the ability to demonstrate a fidelity to natural obligations.

While I did not really know my mother-in-law who had advanced dementia by the time P and I met, she was someone whom P loved and honoured, and I have gotten to know her through my husband and his siblings. I can see that she was someone who valued manners, honesty, diligence, discipline and generosity. She had integrity and wisdom, and she had a heart for those who were in need, often reaching out a helping hand. She was strong on duty, and good old-fashioned values. I know all this because P is someone who displays all these qualities which I am sure have been bequeathed to him by both his father and mother.   

Sitting with P, by her bedside, praying for God’s will in all things, I was able to witness how God’s divine mercy shaped the events leading to death, how she held on until all her children could be present for the wake and funeral mass, and how she was made comfortable to the very end. It was heartwarming to see how her grandchildren gathered around her, and how her death has brought the extended family closer together, which I am sure she is very pleased about.

Dying is a horrific process, and it always will be, but I can also see how it can be life-giving and transformative for those who are left behind. Plus, in time, we will all be reunited. Thank you, Mummy, for the gift of P in my life, and for teaching him so well that he is such a good man, a true reflection of who you were, a good woman. Till we meet in heaven.