"Hey", I said to the lady I'd currently settled down beside. I'd seen her sitting on the wooden chair earlier this afternoon. The sun was heading back to wherever it called home, and she was still there—just sitting.
Maybe she was lost or something That had been my thought, and so I'd gone to find out if that was the case. "Are you okay?", I proceeded to ask. "You look cold." And that was putting it lightly, her nose was pink and her laborious breaths were coming out in white puffs. "...I'm fine", she muttered. "Just peachy." It was said with such force though, that I knew she couldn't have been saying the truth. When I took a closer look at her, I noticed her eyes were red, and her nose ran a bit. Most likely, she had been crying. Normally, it was at points like this I'd head off. I'd been an upholder of the act of 'minding your business' these days, and quite frankly had gotten into less trouble since I started to. But something kept me there, right beside her. Something I hadn't felt in a while. Is that you God? What do you think? Let's just say my relationship with God was anything but those formal KJV-like conversations with all the 'thous' and 'thees'. Some people say the way we hear God's voice goes through the filter of how we perceive him to be in our hearts. Because honestly, I'd always wondered if God actually spoke to people in their different languages or if we just automatically translated his leadings that way. Well, regardless of what it truly was. One thing was certain, the person who lived in my heart had an amazing sense of humour and a divine touch of sarcasm. Believe it or not, it felt motherly. And right now, I knew without a doubt that He wanted me to stay put. You can't just leave her here, Esther. I trained you better. One internal eye-roll later, and I tried to strike up a conversation. "Uhm, I know you said you were fine, but I still can't help but ask. It's Christmas Eve, and you've been outside for quite a while. I'm sure your loved ones are looking for you now. Isn't it time you went home?" That's right. The sooner I got her out of the cold, the sooner I could leave it myself. My teeth were already beginning to chatter. I wasn't dressed for the evening, not one bit. I mean, how was I to know I'd be stuck here trying to convince a grown woman about why freezing to death was not an option this time of year (or any time for that matter)? "...nooneslookin", she mumbled. I couldn't get her the first time, so I intelligently went "Huh?" For some reason, that seemed to flip a switch, because the next thing I knew she was shouting and sobbing. "I said there's no one! There's no body coming! The only person that would have, died two days ago! He died without us even being able to say goodbye! He died after promising… after promising he wouldn't." Her voice broke at the end till it became a whisper. And I realised that this was a woman in pain. Forget the eve before Christmas or the Yuletide festivities. Right now, all the red and green in the world wouldn't make a difference. To her, they were a dark, sickly gray. Because colours die off in mourning. I sat beside her, not saying a word, forgetting the cold even, as I tried to not breathe too loud. To not allow her notice that she was sobbing her eyes out in front of a stranger. I sat beside her until her sobs became unsteady wheezes, and she began to laugh.
When pain becomes too much to bear, the body tries to survive through coping mechanisms, laughter being just one of many.
Slowly, she sat back up from her previously bent position and began to stare into nothingness.
"The house is so empty. Every corner holds a memory, and I just can't anymore. I just can't!" She tucked her knees under her chin. And I, totally disregarding the time now, just watched her, listening.
"We'd been married for only a year. It had taken us time because we had goals we'd wanted to settle individually before we did, and then we had more as a couple." She sniffed then.
"We were going to start trying for kids next year", She choked out, as her tears fell in rivulets.
"Who'd have thought a brake would fail, and my husband, my sweet husband, would be on the receiving end of someone else's incompetence?"
"Who'd have thought I'd have to mourn him just a year after we got together? Who'd have thought?" She questioned, her eyes tightly shut.
I knew she wasn't talking to me, just baring her heart. She was a soul desperately in need of comfort and answers, neither of which I was good at giving. Still, I felt the nudge within me to speak.
Open your mouth, and I will fill it.
"Uhm… ma'am", I said, putting my right arm over her shoulder.
"I can never claim to know exactly what you're going through", I started.
"Even if I had gone through the same experience you've faced, I'm not sure I still would grasp the depth of your pain."
At that, she seemed to loosen up a bit more. I felt the tense lines of her shoulders relax as she leaned into the one-armed hug.
"You don't know how relieving it is to hear you say that. Whenever I burst into tears or grieve, everyone around me just act like they want to fix me. I'm tired of hearing people say, "I know what you're passing through", or "I've been here before", or "this too shall pass". I've always been an optimistic person, so there's this feeling I can't deny that tells me that all will be fine later on, but right now, it isn't, and I wish they'd get that. I wish they'd stop trying to rush me out of the grief, like my pain is a burden to them."
And as I listened to her speak, one lesson took root in my heart.
Grief, like every other emotion, is a process. One that must be embraced before it is let go off.
So, I sat there with her. We sat in silence till the evening glowed, till no hint of sun was left. And then, I asked her,
"Ma'am?"
"My name's Rose. Call me Rose."
"Okay. Rose…" I said, testing the name on my tongue. I'd been unsure how to ask her for her name after the moment we'd just had, but thankfully, that had been settled.
"I don't know if you'd be willing to try this out, but I'll share it anyways." Taking a deep breath, I continued.
"On days when I'm in pain, I pray."
At that, she turned her face away. She didn't stop me though, so I continued.
"I doubt it's the way you imagine though. When I'm in pain, I cry and question God. I even swore at him once", I admitted, cringing.
She turned back to me then, almost as if she was looking at me clearly for the first time that evening.
"You swore? At God?" She looked scandalised, like she'd never imagined such a thing, but then she chuckled lightly.
"Must have been nice", she said almost dreamily. "I have all these questions and such pent up anger, and I'm unsure where to throw it."
"Yeah, it wasn't my finest moment", I admitted, eyes downcast. "But it has been the most touching".
"How do you mean?" She asked, clearly bewildered.
"Well, that day, He touched my soul", I explained, rubbing my palms together. The chill was finally settling in.
"As I sat in the floor of my room, my throat and heart sore, I felt warmth envelope me. And then, I heard him clearly."
"'I am here', He'd said"
At that, I saw her visibly tremble. Her body shook in a way that left it clear that it wasn't the effect of the cold. She began to cry again, but this time, it was low, and somehow, filled with both questions and answers of their own. I knew then that I was watching a moment unfold, one between God and a daughter he'd wanted to hold.
Rose stayed in that teary trance for some minutes more, and I watched time stand still as this woman conversed with a God she'd felt abandoned her, and was comforted by a presence with more weight than any words.
When she was done, her eyes were still bloodshot but no longer lifeless.
"'I'm here', He'd said", she re-echoed. "He said the same thing to me. But, there were memories as well."
She put her feet down then.
"Memories of times past, the bad and good, and how he'd always come through. I questioned him. I always might. But for now, for today, knowing he's here is enough to keep me going. For today, it is."
Then, she turned to me and smiled.
"Thank you, Esther. God says 'Hi'."
I stared in shock as she stood up, dusted herself and gave me a pat on the shoulder.
"Thank you, for yielding", and it was clear she meant every word.
With that, Rose walked away, most likely in the direction of home. But I sat there. I sat there for what felt like hours, mulling over the situation—about why Rose had to lose the love of her life so early, and why God had picked me of all people to talk to her (I hadn't prayed in days). I wondered till I had no more questions, and then, for the first time in days, I prayed.
I thanked God for who he was—his vastness, which I hadn't completely understood yet, and his care, which was a palpable force. I asked him for strength for Rose and for the sense of purpose to keep living. And finally, I thanked him for Christmas, for the birth of Jesus which signified the beginning of God directly mingling in human affairs. I thanked Him for loving us that much. For still doing so.
"Immanuel", Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.
Author's note:
This week's post is dedicated to two wonderful women:
Elect Alenkhe: your meeting with the elderly lady the other day inspired this piece. God bless you for yielding.
Esther Akwara: for Love Open Arms, its being a platform for healing and growth (and also because it's your birthday, and I'm so excited!).
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