She sits there, with her fists clenched, her heart wide open. The second thing she says is 'I got cervical cancer. Second stage.'
She just found out.
I sit with her and her lips quiver. Singular tears wet the sides of her temples as they try and hide and find a way to release.
'How many blows can one person take?' She says. How many?
I sit with her and hold her neck and her hand. Someone calls. I understand only a few things. There is nothing really to do but be there. Talk to her. Listen to her. Be silent with her. So many things.
The dream I had, when I moved in. How she was calling weakly from her room and nobody came so I went to look after her. She was lying on her bed, wretched, looking up to me whispering 'it is so hot, I need water' and I poured cool water on her neck and back. How I saw the pain and the dwindeling and the need to be helpless, after all. Someone like her, who has been through so much, childlessness, ensuing abuse and being kicked out of the house, widowhood, - someone like her has seen so much. So much intensity and pain and strength in God. Something higher and deeper than yourself. She has held widows and helped them wash off the stigmatization, take care of HIV orphans and build houses for safety. She is on a road. She is on a journey. On a long and winding road.
Let's be in silence. For a moment. For now.
She just found out.
I sit with her and her lips quiver. Singular tears wet the sides of her temples as they try and hide and find a way to release.
'How many blows can one person take?' She says. How many?
I sit with her and hold her neck and her hand. Someone calls. I understand only a few things. There is nothing really to do but be there. Talk to her. Listen to her. Be silent with her. So many things.
The dream I had, when I moved in. How she was calling weakly from her room and nobody came so I went to look after her. She was lying on her bed, wretched, looking up to me whispering 'it is so hot, I need water' and I poured cool water on her neck and back. How I saw the pain and the dwindeling and the need to be helpless, after all. Someone like her, who has been through so much, childlessness, ensuing abuse and being kicked out of the house, widowhood, - someone like her has seen so much. So much intensity and pain and strength in God. Something higher and deeper than yourself. She has held widows and helped them wash off the stigmatization, take care of HIV orphans and build houses for safety. She is on a road. She is on a journey. On a long and winding road.
Let's be in silence. For a moment. For now.
