8 Coconuts

Yesterday morning, as I was leaving the ship for the day, someone let me know that Aime died. We had discharged him the day before on his grandparents insistence. His mother had left the ship, unable to cope with watching her son die. Over the phone I asked the nurse back at the ship to give the family some money. You see, they were planning on putting his on the back of a zemidjan (a motorcycle taxi) to bring him up-country. Aime was suffering terribly, working for every breath. The thought of him on a motorized bike made me feel sick, I don't care if that's part of the culture, I really don't.
When we called Mariette, his mother, she confirmed our sad news. She asked if we could visit, and I smiled when I learned she was staying right next to where we were going.

I wrote some of the events of the afternoon down right away. To be honest, I'm tired of trying to put impossible emotions into words. My mind races, then seems to just blur when I attempt to recall specifics. Hubert, and now Aime, are the first two children I have cared for and loved who have died. You don't get over these things in a day or two, I don't think you are supposed to, really.
If that's not enough, I have to hear that Aime died in the taxi, less than an hour after he left the ship. At least it wasn't on a motorcycle.

I'll simply list what I wrote yesterday, no use trying to make it sound eloquent.
"If God loved Aime, why would he let this happen" I was asked.
"He suffered for 4 days. As a mother, I had nothing. I could do nothing" she flatly stated.

As explained by my translator, Mariette will not see Aime again before he is buried, his grandparents continued north in the taxi after he died.
"In our culture, parents are not to bury their children, they are not supposed to"
No kidding.
"My wish is that they will work to find a good solution for this disease. Aime has suffered so much". The tears started welling then.
"I hope God will bless you to find a good solution for these children"
If you only knew that's my same prayer

Sitting with a largely expressionless face, Aime's mom explained that she felt her heart had been removed.
My answer?
I sat with her, I let tears fall, I held her hand and I leaned my legs against hers, the weight of both holding each others up.
I found Lamentations 3:33 in her French bible. I promised her I believed the words, my heart prayed that she somehow would too.

As I prayed and talked with some friends last night I was grateful for someone who knew what I was going through. When children die, it sucks, was our conclusion.
Told you it wasn't going to be eloquent.
Its a horrible feeling, one you can't explain. It just hurts.

In the end, now, on this new day, I am refreshed. It even started yesterday. Mariette said she did not want to know a God who lets children suffer. All it took was a promise from the bible before she smiled knowing Aime is with Jesus. She said pictured him singing and being held, we agreed that was perfect.
I have no doubt that Aime was surrounded by his own special angels as he left here and was placed in that taxi. His suffering is over, I'm thankful for that.
My only comfort come from clinging to the same promise I shared with Aime's mom, because at the end of the day that is the only way to cope with these things.

Lamentations 3:22-33

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."

Aime's mother asked me yesterday if I liked coconut. I answered yes, not expecting that when I was leaving I would be followed by family members carrying 8 of them. I've shared them with the nurses who cared for Aime and the doctor who had to make the hard decision with Mariette to cease treatment. The few left will be made into a special treat for next week, because on monday, I will accompany 3 children to a local hospital for their second dose of chemotherapy. Rachelle, Luc, and Maddie all have Burkitt's lymphoma, the disease that claimed little Aime's life. They are responding to treatment, all three beautiful evidence of answered prayer. Mariette asked about them, she knew them from when they were all on the ship together. We will celebrate 'round 2' with a special party. Balloons, ice cream, coloring pages, and coconut cookies.