Gingerly I step into the door way of a home I had never entered before. It is a large beautiful home. There are small groups of people huddled hear and there all around. I greet the matron of the house and share my condolences. Then I enter further, feeling timid and awkward. Of all the times I wear head scarves in this country, why didn’t it occur to me to wear one today? I feel out of place. Some ladies I had met before greet me. Then I search out Helen, Tia’s sister in law. She takes me to meet her father. Despite the reason we are there, his eyes twinkle as he stands to shake my hand and asks in clear English, “I hope you speak French!” I laugh and respond in English, “I do speak French!”
I find my way back to the few familiar faces and they make a space for me. Its strange. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know these ladies well, and the one they are grieving, well I only knew her for three months. The Tia I know, is not the real Tia. I know a sick Tia who is trying to maintain courage, but it is ebbing away. A Tia who finds it harder and harder to keep battling mentally and physically for the health she wants. I know a Tia who allowed herself to be vulnerable with me, who clung to my prayers, and requested my presence during terrifying medical procedures. I know a Tia who needed permission to stop fighting.
Now I sit here, looking around at these beautiful ladies, wondering about their stories, their hearts. One randomly sobs while another tells her to stop crying, it will be okay. The others look lost. An unspoken or even unthought of responsibility descends on me. I had prayed before coming that God would use me, speak through me, help me to be a blessing. I am not an extrovert and to go into a social setting, especially with grief attached, where I am really an outsider makes my insides shake.
“When did you meet Tia?” I gently ask as I glance around a small, tight circle of her closest friends. Two aren’t there. One is off attending to someone or something, she’ll rejoin us soon I hope. The other left as she was exhausted, hers was a heavy responsibility today. She was the one, who as best friends with Tia, broke the news to Tia’s beautiful children that their mother’s long battle was over.
My heart hurts as I look at the faces around me. Some I had met before, a couple others I had not. And slowly the stories start coming. Sometimes with tears. Sometimes with laughter. I too join in with a few of my own experiences. I told of my time with Tia just hours before she died.
She hadn’t wanted visitors. I didn’t know when I got there if she would allow me in, but the family didn’t ask her, they cleared the room and sent me in. Tia was drowsy. She didn’t look at me. I messaged her neck and back, sat beside her, prayed with her. Then in moments of more wakefulness I started asking her how was her courage, was she afraid, what exactly were her fears based on, and if she was okay with me asking some hard questions? All my questions needed to be phrased as yes and no questions as she couldn’t talk. She would nod or shake her head, hold up one finger if yes to the first question (should I have asked several questions in a row) and two fingers for yes to both questions and made circles with her finger if the answer was for the second question. At one point I asked her if she would like to rest, and have me leave. She took my hand firmly and pulled, indicating she wanted me to stay.
She looked up at me and her usually bright beautiful eyes were grey and flat. But I saw reassurance that I had come, and I saw questions in her mind. I asked her if she was scared to die. She said yes. I asked her many things. Finally, I reminded her that God never allows us to go down a road without also giving us the strength for this road. I reminded her that even if she couldn’t process her thoughts, feelings, fears with us, God knows her mind and she can talk to Him. I encouraged her to reach out to Him and trust Him. I sang some hymns. Prayed with her. Then finally, I said, “Tia it is okay to rest. You have fought long and hard. You have done a great job. Its okay to rest now.” She held unto my hand. I prayed again. Finally, it was time for me to leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be with her until the end, but who knew how long that would be? She had oxygen and they were going to start an IV. I was thankful she was at home and not at the hospital.
The ladies listen. One started to sob and said, “I was so selfish. I kept telling her to fight on, and she was really so tired. You were so mature and able to tell her what she needed to hear…” I assured it her it had not always been that way. Just two weeks ago Tia had said she was so tired and just wanted to die. I had spent a long time and invested a lot the next week in helping her refocus and gain courage to keep fighting. I wonder what would have been different had someone qgiven her permission then to let go and rest?
Others share their stories. I started learning more about the history of her battle with cancer. After awhile I notice phones coming out and they start showing pictures and saying “Remember this…?” I could see a change come over the ladies. Before there had been despondency and surreal, unspoken grief, and now there was purpose, sharing, and I hoped, healing.
Then one lady said, I just have a hard time thinking about her right now. I’m afraid she is alone somewhere and we are all here together. I find myself asking, “What does Islam teach about what happens after you die?” I feel silly, because I am pretty sure I know. But I feel propelled deeper into this topic then I feel comfortable. Two similar, yet different answers come my way. Before I know what I an saying I hear my words “I would like to share something with you. It will seem radical, but it is so helpful. Do you know the Bible says death is like a sleep? Just like when you go to sleep at night and sleep deeply the morning comes in an instant, death is the same way. When one dies their soul rests in sleep until God comes back to make all things right.” I continue on with a brief description of the Great Controversy and how God wants a real relationship with us and not one based out of fear, the choice is ours, its not dictated. Then I say, “According to the Bible, Tia is resting. She has been so tired. She is finally getting the sleep she has wanted and needed. And one day, when God says it is the right time, He will wake her up and we will all be together again in a perfect world!”
I quake inside as I realize what I just said. This was not my intention. But I could not stop myself. I look around at their faces, they are listening intently. They are open. Then when I finish, the one who had first spoken her fear about where Tia was now, said, “That helps so much. It is much more comforting to think of her as resting.”
The conversation turns and now it is time to go. I leave breathing thanks to God and asking Him to water the seeds that had been sown to encourage these ladies.
~~LaRae
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