But how does it go on? How do the living pick up after the dead and sort out what was left behind? What do you do when it’s sudden, unexpected, and unprepared for? How do you encourage those left behind wandering through the mine field of grief? The words of an old song summarize it all, “how can I help you say goodbye?” Maybe these questions would apply even if you expected to lose someone but this week it was sudden and unexpected.
These questions have been bombarding my mind and I find myself wishing to just erase a day from history – is that possible? Can we rewind and do things differently? I wish with my heart we could and mostly that we could have seen the signs of depression or a loss of a will to live before this happened. I could go on and on with “what if’s” but I’ve already realized that is not profitable or even realistic.
So you’re probably wondering what happened by now – I’ll try to explain without being too long-winded. He worked in our business office as the “credit controller” or the one who recorded payments patients made on their account and collected money from the insurance company and other payers. He had only been in this position since the first of the year and before that he was manager of the inventory and stock warehouses. As you can imagine I’ve worked quite closely with him over the last year that I’ve been here. The week before last it was discovered that in an effort to be “helpful” he offered to turn their money in for them and give them a receipt from a different book (still Malamulo but not from the cashier so not “on record”). The accountant met with him that day and then the next business day was I along with several members of management met with him and gave him a letter of suspension and explained we would be reporting this to police. The amount of money was not astronomical but we felt it should be reported to authorities for documented back up for termination.
He was calm and admitted to everything both verbally and in writing. There was no anger visible although he was understandably nervous. Afterwards we planned to take him to the police department so he went back to his house to lock up the doors. So a little while later I went with the accountant and the HR manager to report it to the police. We wanted to take him with us but couldn’t raise him on his phone. We all tried several times but thought we’d just go anyway and make the report. We brought the police officers back with us to find him. All of this should only be done, they told us, after we contacted his closest relative. After realizing he had no wife or children his next closest relative was a cousin who works at the hospital. We stood and discussed things for a while – should we break in? What if he’s not there and sues the police? What if he is there and we are wasting time?
Finally we went to his house and decided to break in. They quickly opened the door (amazing how easily they know how to break in!) and it was confirmed that we needed to RUSH him to the hospital as he had taken something and was non-responsive. We hadn’t come in a car but were right behind the hospital in the housing block so I took off running to find the ambulance or some vehicle. (Picture me in a dress with 3 inch wedge heels RUNNING past all the ladies chatting that I had just walked calmly by.) I got to the front of the hospital – no vehicle! Someone else ran to general ward and got a canvas stretcher. I turned around and was trying to call at the same time to find the driver – phones weren’t working!! On my way back (by this time I took off my shoes and was barefoot) I saw Cristy and urgently called her to come with me and told her briefly what I knew. I thought if there was anything that could be done at the house she could help until a vehicle came. We walked/ran back to the house and both cars were there that I had been looking for!! (Thank God for Malawian telepathy!)
The next two hours were spent intermittently waiting, praying, comforting people and grinding charcoal into powder. The team of doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel worked frantically to bring him around. Things started to calm down and they moved him from a treatment room into a patient room. I had to go check on some things around the hospital so left. I was hopeful in what seemed like “stability” so figured things would be okay. As I was coming back about ½ hour later someone told me that he had just passed away!! I was in shock! I walked in and saw Cristy who was visibly shaken as well. I went into his room to pay respects and tears overwhelmed me.
I cried because I was sad for him… sad that he felt this was his only solution… sad that I had just seen and talked to him and now he was dead… sad that I hadn’t been able to see his pain or help in some way. I stayed around as employees came and filed into the room. After they’d come they lined up outside the ward on the lawn, in the hallways, and everywhere they could. They were sitting in respect and mourning. Some were crying but most were silent – no chatting, no questions – just quiet. (Something I value about grief in Malawi – the practice of just being present.)
Meanwhile I spoke with some family members and close friends, the police, found Don and walked with him up there, waited for decisions to be made, and generally just tried to absorb the feeling of sadness and grief that filled the air. The funeral and burial were the next day at a nearby cemetery. It was a different service than I had attended before. There was no singing and very little preaching. As we walked from the house where the funeral was to the burial there was no singing and actually not much weeping. After asking about why these differences it seems that the community acts out their judgment on someone who takes their own life saying that “God is angry” and “there can’t be any singing when someone kills themselves”. Apparently even the short homily by the pastor was not really acceptable in this situation! I was surprised at the harshness and a sentence of damnation pronounced by those who are left behind. Obviously a difference in culture and religious beliefs but also doesn’t portray the God that I believe in.
So the days move on and we do have to pick up after the dead – whether we know how or not. We are busy sorting through the office he left and the work he did or did not do; moving people into places and at the same time being gracious at the accusations that are flying very unfairly. The verse in Paul’s writings that say “My grace is sufficient and my strength is made perfect in weakness” keeps ringing in my ears and I believe it! His grace IS sufficient and has been the strength that I am relying on.
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