Last year, I was volunteering at the cancer hospital and Deepavali was especially hard for several of the friends (the patients are my friends though we just met) there.
These few days, I can feel Deepavali in the air and somehow, couldn’t help recalling the conversations and experiences I had last year. Two of them had died. Two others, I am not sure how they are now. Are they still surviving or are they no longer around?
First one is this woman whom had breast cancer which eventually spread to her brain. She was ok during Deepavali and she shared a secret with me. She got a new Deepavali suit from someone and was so happy about it. Unfortunately, not long after Deepavali, the cancer caused her to lose her memory. She couldn’t remember a thing, not even her own son’s name or where she was. So, each morning, I would sit there and answer the same three questions from her. It is through the Lord’s that I have the patience to reply them over and over again. Few days after that, she was getting some of her memories. So, I talked to her what she had shared with me. I reminded her about her new Deepavali’s dress, who gave it to her and etc. She was very happy to listen and I am glad she told me because it wasn’t something she could tell others.
Later on, she died. She died, screaming in pain. I was there and I hoped the family allowed her to wear the new suit.
Then, the other one is the young father who had two sons. I don’t know how his wife and two young children are coping. I do not have the mental strength to keep following up. I pray they are coping fine. Initially, after his death, I did follow up with the wife but later on, I felt too drained because I am not train to deal with so much pastoral care.
The other two are elderly women and though my faith and theirs are different, there was never an awkward moment when we talked about life and death. Come to think of it, I have never felt closer to the Lord than the times I had spent at the cancer hospital. Though it had so many sad situations, I felt alive and loved by God even more. I could feel God’s presence in me when I had to face those painful moments experienced by others.
When I go out and see the murukku and other sweets sold by the Indian shops, I felt kind of emo because the few ladies had taught me how to make them. Ghee balls, murukku and even the rock hard sweets. I pray that their families are coping well and if the two elderly women are still surviving, they will find the happiness they had talked about.
Religion is only good when we can see the goodness of other faiths and not compare ours with others. I pray that one day, I will once again have the time to volunteer. RIP T.S.
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