A profound weariness has settled upon me, its grip unwavering. Usually, it passes like an African summer storm.
I understand the reasons
behind this profound state. The loss of my mother has drained every bit of my
being. Strangely, I didn’t experience such intensity when my father and brother
passed away. I was too preoccupied with the daily toils and tribulations that
consumed my life. But now, defeated by this invisible and diabolical illness that
forced me to retire from teaching, I find myself trapped in a perpetual state
of listlessness, doing mundane tasks, and managing the small “thing” I call a home
business. It does little to distract my mind and heart from the void left by my
mother’s absence.
Since her passing, I’ve
assumed an emotionally stooped posture as I await the arrival of the next possible
tragedy. It will undoubtedly engulf me. Exactly one month after her death, my
mother’s eldest brother passed away. The last of the de Wet siblings are now
gone. With their passing, my mother at 79 and her brother at 82, I find myself
standing at the precipice, questioning whether I am on the cusp of entering the
last decade of my own life. I’m turning 58 this year. Surely, I have more time?
Why then does even the notion of a decade feel presumptuous? Is it the pain
that intermittently surges through my body, often rendering me immobilized on
the floor, gazing at the ceiling? Every time I lie down, grounded but not dead,
I wonder if I can endure another week. This and the weight of the potential
loss of anyone else dear to me hang heavy in the air, casting an unnecessary shadow
over my days.
And then wonders upon wonders!
Amidst the darkness, light has a way of filtering through.
Yesterday, a peculiar
sensation of contentment washed over me, causing me to pause. My dear friend,
Joekie, who is in the Cape had planned to meet me this Saturday, but unforeseen
obstacles thwarted our meeting, leaving me disappointed. So, the unexpected feeling
of contentment was a surprise.
It became a lesson. Each
encounter, missed or realized, carries significance, serving a purpose in our
personal growth. Through disappointment, I found comfort in knowing that time
and unforeseen circumstances are out of our control.
Can there be any regret if we aren’t
the masters of our own destiny?
The idea of having complete
control over any event is ludicrous, a fleeting illusion. After all, I’m merely
a traveller on a short and unpredictable journey. Circumstances will mould me, but
no matter how far I’ve come, I’ve never been in control. I’ve walked in faith
to get here! So, I need to continue walking in faith, even when the burden I
carry is too heavy to bear.
And this is it! This is what brought
the moment of calm (contentment) yesterday. Faith! Over the past few weeks, I’ve
been thinking about faith and strength and endurance. Psalm 23 and the words of
Paul in Philippians have carried me through thus far. Paul’s words, “For I can
do everything through Christ, who gives me strength”, often made me wonder: With
the right amount of faith, can I truly overcome the hardship of death?
Right now, the depth of my
emotions feels immeasurable. It’s as if layers upon layers of feelings have
accumulated, forming a towering mountain of rubble that needs to be cleared
away. How do I even begin the daunting task of calming the emotional turmoil?
Oh, I try to be positive. I
constantly reassure myself, saying, “Once I’m rested, the mountain of emotions
will become nothing more than a small heap, quite easy to clear up on my own.” But
alas! Reality stands firm, defiantly challenging the optimism within me. What
is rest? Time has long been hailed as a great healer, capable of mending many
wounds and soothing the pain of various hardships. Yet, death is an abyss so
deep and unfathomable that the passage of time offers little comfort. It gets
easier, “they say”, but honestly, we continue to live with the void, don’t we?
I believe Paul understood that
no one in his world could grant him the strength to endure or conquer the
challenges he faced. The support of others came in the form of empathy and
encouraging words. But it was through faith alone that he found his strength. This
realization holds true for me as well, irrespective of who I am or the people I
have in my life. While it is true that faith is a deeply personal and
individual journey, I am reminded that I am not truly an island unto myself. I’ve
been fortunate to have friends like Marcelle, Daryl, Karen, Joekie, Mariëtte,
and even my cousin Madeleine, who have extended their support and
understanding. They have reached out because they too have experienced the
profound pain of losing a mother. Even Ginger, a family friend, has reached out
to me. He understands the sorrow of losing a loved one, as he recently
experienced the loss of his wife. My sister shares my loss and is my closest friend. I know I can lean on her for support at any hour of the day. And I am grateful for this bond. I also have the support of a loving husband, and two adult children, who understand me better than I sometimes understand myself. Where would I be without them? Their steadfast love fills me with a deep sense of gratitude, which seeps through every fiber of my being. Love and faith carry me through.
The reality though is this: I can have all the love in the world, but if my faith wavers or diminishes, no matter what others do or say, I will sink into the depths of life’s turbulent waters. I will drown! And so, it is through the awareness of “keeping the faith” that I will continue to be strengthened to endure.
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