Lanmò

On All Souls Day the mother of one of the sisters, I live with, died.  On that same day, a cousin of the same sister died as well.  Many of the sisters, some of the postulants and a few of the sister's co-workers went to the funeral on Saturday.  We could not take the orphanage and formation house mini busses because they are not designed for climbing steep mountains on unpaved roads and crossing bridgeless rivers.  A parade of crowded pickup trucks and SUVs made its way to the little town (not far from the border of the Dominican Republic) where the sister's mother lived.  The mother had been paralyzed due to a stroke she had several years earlier and had needed constant care, which her family lovingly provided.  I never met her, but apparently, she was a lovely and hardworking person with a beautiful smile.  Since she had suffered greatly following her stroke, many people had mixed feelings when hearing of her death.  The cousin who died the same day though was only 30 years old, the father of three young children.  His death was much more sudden, perhaps some kind of an infection; there was mention of a fever. We spent time at the mother's family's home visiting in the yard, before the funeral.  The casket was in front of the simple cinderblock house. When it was time to go to the church, it was placed in the back of one of the Holy Cross Sisters' pick up trucks and we followed behind, slowly, walking in procession to the church.  The cousin's family and friends seemed to have had a similar procession and met us at the church; it was a double funeral.  There was much grieving and crying during the liturgy.  After mass everyone processed with the two caskets to the nearby cemetery for the burial.     


The next day, as I was walking to the orphanage, I was reflecting on the sister's cousin's death. I could not help but think that it was quite possibly preventable.  Would he have died at this time if he had lived somewhere else, if he had access to better healthcare?

Yesterday's Funeral

As the cries of the grieving continue to echo in my ears 

from yesterday's funeral,

an untimely

perhaps perfectly preventable tragic death, 

Catching my eyes, 

in the midst of a polluted stream,

surrounded by discarded empty plastic bottles

and lots of litter

a green plant grows

and upon it rests a white butterfly, 

silently inviting me to trust in resurrection 

even, or rather, especially, 

when the death is: 

unjust, untimely, and perhaps perfectly preventable.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  Have a good week. Many blessings!