Faith of Sorrow
As I write this my heart cannot keep up with all of the thoughts running through my head. The last week and a half has been one of the worse for me and my family. The closes person who had passed away i my life had been my grandpa in 2014. I was living in Korea, thousands of miles away from my family. He was 80 years old and had been sick for some time. The doctors told us that he would be a vegetable and would need 24 hour care, so I prayed that God would take him. He had been through so much in his life including working for a colonial government, seeing his county gain independence, travel the world, live in a glorious time of hope, and then see it all stripped away. I wanted him to go and rest for eternity. Of course, I was sad because we had grown so close. We talked all the time and then he was gone. However, I found comfort in him being in a better place.
The second person, who I was close to who passed away was my 8th grade homeroom teacher. She was like a second mother to me. She drove me to school even though I lived out of district, she pushed me to get our of my comfort zone. When I began teaching in Korea, I reached out to her for advice on dealing with my students. She never told me she was sick and when she passed, I was more angry, than sad.
Then, almost a week and a half ago, after hearing him speak with my mom on the phone that morning, I got the news that took my soul out of my body. My uncle, 44 years old, literally the heart and soul of our family had died in the Congo. My sister called me while I was in a meeting at work. My whole body began to shake, I was stuttering to my colleague "I have to go, I have to go, a family member...passed away," I heard myself say. I had to catch my balance. "My keys,". My colleague seeing me fumble began helping me pack my things. "Ok, ok, let me walk you to your car," I walked down the stairs, my legs like jello, the tears coming. He held me up and walked me down, outside. y boss was there and he looked at me. "I have to go- I- someone died." He said something, I cannot remember and my colleague walks me to my car. He grabs me in a hug and I can hear myself sobbing into his shoulder. He opened the car doo for me. I got in. "Call me and let me know you made it home."
I don't know how I got home, but thank God I did.
My uncle Ali, named after Muhammad Ali because he an his twin sister was born October 1974, the same month and year of the "Rumble in the Jungle" fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman. I was growing closer to my uncle, my sister too, making plans to help him with running my grandfather's school. We were going to start the English class curriculum this fall. He had plans...he was running for governor and just a year ago he and his wife were blessed with twins after 15 years of marriage. I remember now when he was going to her family's house, with a letter of proposal ( and cash) to ask for her hand in marriage. It was 2002, my first time in the Congo - actually, it was my first time out of the United States. After they were married, we referred to his wife as Mama Africa because of her loving, mothering spirit. Before I traveled to Korea, she had come to stay with us and she did my hair for my trip. She is the aunt that you can tell everything to and it will never get back to your mom, lol. So naturally in this time my heart breaks for her. The pain is nothing like I have never felt before.
You may be reading this thinking, oh its just an uncle, but he was more. Our family is tight, very tight, and we do everything together no matter how far away from each other we are. I keep asking God why he took away such a kind, intelligent, innovative, passionate, visionary father, brother, uncle, friend, away from our family. Yet, knowing he is with God makes me feel solace. I'm not sad about that, I'm sad because what are we going to do without him!! His babies, his wife, my grandma, his brothers and sisters, his students, his community...what are we all going to do?
I am telling you, if we did not have our faith, I don't know how we would make through this time. Knowing and believing that God's will has been done and that my uncle is in a better place, helps us get through each moment of the day.
All we have is sorrow and faith.
The second person, who I was close to who passed away was my 8th grade homeroom teacher. She was like a second mother to me. She drove me to school even though I lived out of district, she pushed me to get our of my comfort zone. When I began teaching in Korea, I reached out to her for advice on dealing with my students. She never told me she was sick and when she passed, I was more angry, than sad.
Then, almost a week and a half ago, after hearing him speak with my mom on the phone that morning, I got the news that took my soul out of my body. My uncle, 44 years old, literally the heart and soul of our family had died in the Congo. My sister called me while I was in a meeting at work. My whole body began to shake, I was stuttering to my colleague "I have to go, I have to go, a family member...passed away," I heard myself say. I had to catch my balance. "My keys,". My colleague seeing me fumble began helping me pack my things. "Ok, ok, let me walk you to your car," I walked down the stairs, my legs like jello, the tears coming. He held me up and walked me down, outside. y boss was there and he looked at me. "I have to go- I- someone died." He said something, I cannot remember and my colleague walks me to my car. He grabs me in a hug and I can hear myself sobbing into his shoulder. He opened the car doo for me. I got in. "Call me and let me know you made it home."
I don't know how I got home, but thank God I did.
My uncle Ali, named after Muhammad Ali because he an his twin sister was born October 1974, the same month and year of the "Rumble in the Jungle" fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman. I was growing closer to my uncle, my sister too, making plans to help him with running my grandfather's school. We were going to start the English class curriculum this fall. He had plans...he was running for governor and just a year ago he and his wife were blessed with twins after 15 years of marriage. I remember now when he was going to her family's house, with a letter of proposal ( and cash) to ask for her hand in marriage. It was 2002, my first time in the Congo - actually, it was my first time out of the United States. After they were married, we referred to his wife as Mama Africa because of her loving, mothering spirit. Before I traveled to Korea, she had come to stay with us and she did my hair for my trip. She is the aunt that you can tell everything to and it will never get back to your mom, lol. So naturally in this time my heart breaks for her. The pain is nothing like I have never felt before.
You may be reading this thinking, oh its just an uncle, but he was more. Our family is tight, very tight, and we do everything together no matter how far away from each other we are. I keep asking God why he took away such a kind, intelligent, innovative, passionate, visionary father, brother, uncle, friend, away from our family. Yet, knowing he is with God makes me feel solace. I'm not sad about that, I'm sad because what are we going to do without him!! His babies, his wife, my grandma, his brothers and sisters, his students, his community...what are we all going to do?
I am telling you, if we did not have our faith, I don't know how we would make through this time. Knowing and believing that God's will has been done and that my uncle is in a better place, helps us get through each moment of the day.
All we have is sorrow and faith.
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