Amazing Grace

Eight days ago, a dear friend and client of mine met his maker. It has been a long and trying eight days for me as I struggle with the many emotions I have been dealing with in response to his death. You may recall his story: He was diagnosed with HIV in 1989 and with AIDS in the 1999. When he was diagnosed with AIDS, he was told he only had 6 months to live. His sister dropped everything to take care of him at the end of his life. She quit her job so she could dedicate herself to his care. Six months turned into 12 years, and my dear client took his place with God just a few days ago.

I had visited John at the beginning of May, right after his sister told me that it looked like his suffering was coming to an end. The three of us talked for a while about life. John was constantly making jokes, even in the last days of his life. The day before he died, I went once more to see him and his sister. I had spoken to his sister that morning and she asked if I could bring them some food from the pantry. She told me that she couldn't leave the house because she feared leaving him alone. I drove down there after work that afternoon and spent some time sitting at John's bedside, watching him breathe, and talking to his family. It was the first time I had seen someone on the verge of death. He was skin and bones; his body had wasted away to practically nothing. The most he could muster up was "Hey," and then he went back to sleep. His sister began to tell me that he had been very unresponsive the day before - he wouldn't eat and wouldn't take his medications. When he called out to her and she went in his room, he would say nothing and was unable to tell her what he wanted. She told me how hard it was for her to see him like this. Above his bed was this beautiful painting of an angel. His sister told me that every time she walked into his room, she would say a quick prayer to the angel: "Please do not let me cry in front of him."

She has cared for him for 12 years. She literally dropped everything to be there for her brother. She took him to every doctor's appointment. She reminded him when to take his medications. She called the ambulance each time it became clear that he needed to be in the hospital. Every step of the way, she was there. For 12 years. Each time he had a panic attack, she was there. It was rare to see one without the other, and when I saw only her at the beginning of May, I grew concerned...that's when I knew that John's earthly life was coming to an end. The beautiful relationship between the two of them has taught me so much about God's love. She did more than just help John bear his cross; she carried it with him. Each time his suffering increased, you could see her own suffering increase ten-fold. That is true, unconditional love. That is God's love. It is a love unlike any other. A love that knows no bounds. A bond so strong that no matter how much suffering exists, that love will endure. I have never seen God's face so clearly than in this sister's love for her brother. At John's funeral, I watched as his sister kissed his casket and said goodbye. She let out one last gripping sob, and with it, she released him. It was truly beautiful.

I have been thinking so much about sickness and suffering these past couple of weeks, as we have lost four clients in 6 weeks. Sometimes, I find myself getting so angry. Why does AIDS exist? Why do we allow people to suffer? How do we stop it? Is love really enough?

I recently came across a quote by Paul Claudel: 

Jesus did not come to explain away suffering or remove it. He came to fill it with His presence. 

And this is what has allowed me to keep going, even when surrounded by such suffering. John's beautiful sister is a testament to the power of love. Even in his dying days, John was joking around. He kept telling his sister that if his funeral was not arranged exactly as he had asked, he would haunt her. That was the John we all knew and loved. Maybe his sister could not take away his suffering and she surely couldn't end his pain, but her presence, her love, and her compassion for her kin allowed for God to really be present in that suffering. 

I keep asking myself, if the loss of John has been such a struggle for me, how can I possibly work in hospice starting in August? How will I make it through? And then I am reminded of his sister and her unconditional love for John. All I can do is open myself up to God - through suffering and helping others to bear their crosses - and pray that I will be given the chance to love fully, wholly, and unconditionally much like the amazing woman I met in September did by dedicating her life to caring for her brother.