The Journey through Death

It isn’t often one wants to write, or even think about death. But it’s been a little hard for me to escape from these last weeks.

My almost 91 year old grandfather is currently on his death bed. He’s in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and any day now he will pass from this life to one with Jesus. On one hand, it’s an exciting time. But the process of death is difficult to watch, especially if it is a loved one. Watching his body turn frailer and become less of the man I knew pains me.

I am also plagued to think about death with the conversations I’ve been having regarding Zimbabwe. If you don’t know what has been going on in recent years in Zimbabwe just google it. You can read about the land redistribution, the AIDS epidemic, the hyper-inflation, the ruling of Mugabe and the all-out humanitarian crisis happening with a food shortage and lack of any basic medical supplies and medicines.

God has recently been bringing together partners into our facility to talk about Zimbabwe. The requests we have are heart-breaking. When you know that millions of people are suffering and dying because there isn’t any food available to eat, all you can do is cry You try to get your mind around 200 million percent inflation, but you can’t. And well, you can end up feeling a little paralyzed. What can I do?

So I struggle as a person. I’m obviously consumed with my family feeling the pain of losing the only grand-father I ever knew. Watching him forget how to swallow and now gasp for air is a traumatic experience. But I remind myself that my grandfather lived a long and full life and will now enter eternity with Jesus. And as I mourn this death process, I find myself in solidarity with the millions of people around the world who deal with death on a daily basis, only they didn’t have the opportunity to live such long lives. Mothers who are losing their children because of the lack of medicines to treat their children from simple diseases or the inability to gather food pains me greatly. Those in Zimbabwe who have the lowest life expectancy in the world, it is only in the 30’s. When I remind myself of these realities, I feel so grateful to have had so many wonderful years with my Popi.

Knowing of the pain around the world doesn’t lessen the pain of watching my grandfather’s body fail and fade. But it does remind me that I am not alone in my pain. And it does inspire me to continue my work on behalf of the poor. And it inspires me to trust in God’s mysterious wisdom because sometimes you just don’t understand why things are as they are. And in this season of life, I just don’t understand, but I do trust.