Monday, September 7, 2015

A Mother's Pain

As I enter the room, I can hear the muted sounds of pain.  In one corner of the room, Awuor heaves in pain. My wobbly feet make their way to what is clearly a pale shadow of her former self,  My eyes, clouding with tears, do not blur the agony that is mercilessness of disease on the human body.  I am unable to look her squarely in the eye.  Somehow, I make a limp attempt not to look away.

Dear God, is this painful and protracted death her only escape?  Is there an end to all of this torturous existence? As things stand right now, death might be a welcome relief.

Then, I hear the sound of stifled sobbing from another corner of the room, it,s Awuor's  mother. She's seated quietly, lost in her own sorrow and thoughts.  Her eyes are fixed on her daughter, unblinking. She acknowledges our presence with a nod, and we move towards her.   She extends a frail hand to greet us, her pain too deep to share.

I wonder to myself, which is the greater pain? Is it that of a daughter with the broken, disease-ravaged body or the mother with a broken heart, helplessly watching the lights of her daughter's life dimming before her eyes?

The mother has been camping in this room since her daughter was admitted.  Praying, waiting and pleading for Divine intervention.... her pain cloaked over her like a dark and heavy fabric.

We hold hands, pray and then leave the room.Behind us, is a mother left fanning the embers of hope that have survived the deluge of pain and disease.  Hope still flickers even (in fact, especially) on the darkest night.

Post Script: Awuor passed on the very next day. RIP.

No comments: