A neighbor has had several deaths in the family recently. While I don’t know her or her family very well, I consider her a friend. She and her family have shown me kindness as I’ve battled cancer.
Recently, unfortunately, I have had the opportunity to return the love.
I say unfortunately because it has come about through deaths in her family.
Everyone who has died has been fairly elderly, and she knew death was coming at some point. But the only one she knew was imminent was that of her grandmother. This lady was in her early 90s and had been ailing for a while.
My neighbor is part of an extensive Mexican-American family. When people die, all the relatives gather for the funeral in the town where she grew up, where most of the elderly folks still live. Sometimes after the funeral, relatives come home with her. The intent is for people to comfort each other, but it’s wearing my neighbor out.
It’s not just the sorrow of losing people that she loves or the visitors that are draining her. It’s also all the traveling she has to do, since her hometown is several hours away. Texas is a large state, about 800 miles across each way. This adds to my friend’s stress.
I want to comfort her, but what can I do?
One way that people of all cultures seem to show they care is to bring food. I have done this for my neighbor, as well as letting her know I’d be praying for her and was available if there was anything else I could offer.
When my neighbor’s great-uncle died, I gave her the prettiest zucchini from my garden. She was delighted. It turns out she loves zucchini. When an aunt died, I brought over a chicken and rice casserole. When her grandmother died, I got her the really good Mexican hot chocolate.
She mourned but showed resilience. Every time I brought her a gift, we chatted. She told me stories about her relative who’d died, and we ended up smiling as she shared their foibles with me. Then we hugged and I left.
However, this last time — she was devastated. The fourth death in her family within one month… even strong people have breaking points.
She had loved each of the people who had died. She missed them.
I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would help. Except…
I went over and hugged her. She cried on my shoulder. I let her know I would be praying for her. Then I went home and did, asking God to keep her family safe as they traveled to the funeral and asking Him to comfort her in her grief.
Her grief is very deep. My gesture is just a drop in the bucket of what she needs. I can’t provide that. But I trust that God can.
I am fighting stage IV cancer. If you can help with medical bills, I would really appreciate it. Or if you enjoy my writing and would like to buy me a cup of coffee, that’s great too. Maybe someday I can return the favor.
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This post was previously published on Shefali O’Hara’s blog.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
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 The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer |
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Photo credit: iStock
