I remember the 7th of January 2006, the day my mum passed away, as the day I broke. Her passing brought me to my knees and quite frankly, it has left me there. I remember the senior nurse telling me that mum had 6 hours left to live and I certainly remember the urgent prayers in my heart, pleading with God to spare her. I remember the final words I whispered in her ear. I told her I loved her and that I wished I could go on looking after her but that I feared it was time for Jesus to look after her. I remember her gripping my hand so very tightly, as if acknowledging this farewell. I remember how she was then gone.
I find it difficult to speak about mum. Perhaps this is indicative of a wound that still needs to heal. People who knew mum well, would know of the crippling arthritis that dogged her for most of her life. Bedridden at 28, she then found respite through traditional medicine. She was told she would never have children. She had me. She always reminded me that I was her blessing from Jesus. Perhaps this was why she loved me so well.
The arthritis came back with a vengeance. She knew very little reprieve from constant, excruciating pain. Yet, those who knew her would only be too quick to acknowledge how she never complained. Rather, she smiled and was cheerful. She gave great counsel to those who sought it, chatted and laughed with family and friends, sketched, painted and wrote, planned surprises, taught (she worked till retirement age), studied the Bible with a group of ladies every week and in general, went about living life as best she could, despite her limitations. A good friend of hers recently sent me a message in which she said that my mum crippled the arthritis with her dignity. Imagine my pride reading such a message!
Mum and I always talked. We had no secrets. Sometimes, it baffles me to know why we had so much to say to each other. We’d talk from the moment I came downstairs and went into her room and before I drove off to work. We’d talk once I got to the office and intermittently throughout the workday. We spoke in between engagements that I had to keep and the chatter never stopped even after I got home! Sometimes we’d be in tears. Lots of times, we’d be in fits of laughter. The conversation was magic. My world seems very silent now in comparison. The last time mum was able to speak was on the 5th of January 2015. It felt like there was a slumber party in her hospital room – we didn’t know how serious her condition was at that point. Maybe she sensed it.. I don’t know. She started to spell things out to me – all that she loved about me, all that she was proud about, all that she feared and hoped for me, all that she prayed for when she prayed for me. She certainly left me in no doubt of her regard. For that moment we shared, I’m grateful to our God.
When mum passed away, I think a lot of me shut itself down. Overnight, I lost memory. I can’t remember singers, songs, movies, actors, story plots and even people I’ve met, incidents that happened in the past in my time as a student or lawyer or during my travels. I never thought that the day would come when I wouldn’t know the words to a Michael Jackson song! I’ve lost interest in so many things: I’ve zero interest in football. I am the girl who sat up to the wee hours of the morning watching football matches or who arranged her social schedule around such matches. Now I’d be lucky if I could name a player or two. I’ve become a bit less sociable. Perhaps it’s not obvious to those who’ve met me after mum passed, but I think there’s a clear difference if you compare my social patterns now with the past. I find it hard to be with a lot of people these days. Family gatherings remind me that my mother’s not with us. My heart breaks every time we get together. Visiting close family friends is sometimes so painful – another reminder that she’s gone. Sometimes when I speak to people, I feel like they can see the gaping hole in my soul. It makes me want to shrink back. I feel very distant from what’s going on – almost like I’m in a parallel existence, where the real me is still slumped over that hospital bed sobbing and the centurion me is out protecting the real me from being discovered and has managed to chisel out some sort of existence that fools everyone else. But centurion me can’t fool the real me. I feel the same way about work. I’ve had to quit the law completely. I left the law. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was 6 years old! I loved going to court. I had an excellent boss, worked on good cases – I was living out my dream. But centurion me recognizes that real me can’t cope with stress these days. Real me can’t cope with the demands of the legal practice. Not anymore. Centurion me brought forward my retirement plan of teaching English. It’s not as demanding as being a lawyer. I can cope with this. Centurion me is great in class! Real me never has to make an appearance. Teaching and training meet real me’s needs.
I remember a conversation mum and I had once when she was preparing for a Bible study on the book of Romans. I think that book changed a lot of things for her. Even how she prayed about her illness was different after that. Anyway- as she was prepping one of these studies on Romans, she started talking to me about how there was nothing that mattered outside Christ. In my mid-twenties, the idealistic Anita very heartily agreed with her. I wasn’t thinking then of how my mum who was in so much pain all the time and who had so many of her hopes and dreams dashed as a result of that wretched illness, could say that none of that mattered apart from Jesus. When I lost mum, I lost a chunk of me. True – I don’t have physical limitations, but some of the emotional limitations have been massive and have certainly cost me more than I expected. For awhile there, panic set in. The memory loss, the “collapse” of me as it were, all felt a little impossible to deal with. Sometimes it still feels a little overwhelming.
Now that I’ve had time to reflect on mum’s life, her words about there being nothing apart from Christ makes more sense. Mum’s life was certainly not free from disappointment. Life is full of them. They seem to be one of the few reliable things we have in life! And my amazing mum, certainly had more than her fair share of them. Yet, she was cheerful, bubbly, had a beaming smile and had gracious, encouraging words for everyone. She was a great friend and was able to be a strong shoulder of support to many of her friends, an emotional crutch as it were to those who were close. She bore no resentment, though honestly acknowledging her disappointments in not being able to simple things – like meet up with me over lunch in the middle of the day or go shopping and to the movies with me. She was able to sympathize with people who complained of pains in a single joint, whilst every single joint of hers called out for relieve. She didn’t complain or make life for all of us living closest to her miserable. We never felt it. And now that I’ve had 10 years to reflect on this, I know why. Mum experienced God-given grace.
As a result of this grace, mum was able to see that her glory…her ultimate victory or success in life, came from Jesus’ victory on that cruel cross. Jesus’ death and resurrection guarantee us an eternity in His presence where He will wipe away every tear from the eyes of His people and when death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore (Revelation 21: 4).
Had I only witnessed mum’s life, I may not have totally understood the magnitude of Jesus’ grace. Having lost what I have lost in terms of who I am, I’ve had to come to terms with how I’m sometimes perceived by those who know me. I may come across as a bit of a loser – the girl who wasn’t strong enough to deal with her mum’s passing and who has let life pass her by. Heaven knows, the real Anita is the real Anita’s biggest critic and centurion Anita can’t protect the real Anita from herself this way. The real Anita knows how much her personality has truly altered, how little things that mattered in the past matter now. There was so much confusion about who I am …what I should be like. For ages, I panicked over this. After all, mum always said she loved my personality. There has been intense moments of conflict when it came to who I was where my career was concerned. I kept telling myself I am a lawyer. I even tried to make a return to the legal profession in 2012 but I saw the difference in myself – it didn’t impress me. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy the year back in the practice. I did. And I have to say that I was a part of a very interesting case – one that I am proud to have been a part of. But there was a difference in me…in how I embraced life back as a lawyer. The difference was as a result of this wound in soul. The entire experience felt surreal and I recognize that my personality has so much altered that I’m a far better teacher/trainer these days. I often get “told off” for steering so far away from my area of study. “What a waste of an education!” or… “you’re a great lawyer! Don’t waste your talent!”… I feel a keen sense of shame when I hear these words. They pain me to an extent that I cannot explain.
There is a need to acknowledge the many losses that were brought about as a result of mum’s passing. Friends I used to hang out with on a fairly regular basis aren’t there anymore. They couldn’t handle me being sad. Life moved on for most of those around me – and I think it would be fair to say that I couldn’t necessarily talk to them about how I was still hurting inside. It simply isn’t appropriate. There was a lot of suppression – completely unhealthy. Mum’s passing brought on chronic asthma, acid reflux and my blood count has since her passing, had the tendency to drop. People find it hard to speak about death and the sadness that lingers on after a loved one is gone. You often find yourself alone in that rut…feeling a little out of touch with the rest of the world. It’s almost like you’re dancing to a completely different beat – out of step with everyone else. It’s like you’re mucking up.
The panic that I mentioned – thinking I was disappointing mum has been massive. There were many internal struggles and tussles about how I should restore myself to who I was. I was confused about my identity. There were moments I thought I was losing my sanity. During my time in the practice, I consistently took personality tests – partly because I was interested in how I matched up to my career and partly because it was fun. How could it not be fun? I had some pretty glowing results. In the past – before mum’s passing I consistently had a showing of 98-99% on the extroversion factor alone. That’s pretty staggering and in Winnie the Pooh land, I would’ve been akin to Tigger. When mum passed, I took the test and my extroversion factor was 2%. In Winnie the Pooh land, we are talking Eeyore! My test results are different now… 10 years later, my extroversion factor is at about 37%. Not as low as when mum passed and yet – nowhere close to where it used to be. Hence the confusion about who I was. I remember bits of the “old” Anita and they are in total conflict with the new Anita. In the midst of my dilemma, my amazing pastor friend sent me a poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer entitled Who Am I? It ends like this: “Who am I? Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!” This poem has helped bring me some measure of peace. I am in Christ. May my identity be in Him – and that will, I know, never be shaken. It helped me make sense of my mum’s understanding of Christ.
10 years down the line, mum’s understanding now makes more sense. Her ultimate victory is my ultimate victory too. In fact, I’m thrilled that I’ve been able to further hammer this home with a lesson from my beloved King David (who was ruddy, handsome and had beautiful eyes – 1 Samuel 16: 12) who wrote Psalm 3, where he said: ‘But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.’ (Psalm 3: 3). Mum had taught me that whatever my disappointments – failed ambition, loss of social status or society, loss of personality, etc. – they wouldn’t matter if I learnt that Jesus is the true lifter of my head. He is the root of my glory. When I think on this, I’m relieved that I don’t have to “make it” in the way that I’m expected to. This grief is now a part of who I am. I cannot move on unless and until the memory of my mum becomes meaningless. So…thanks to Jesus, I can cry for how long I need to and not a single tear of mine is too long or out of place for Jesus.He can handle it. He can handle the fact that I’m not necessarily thrilled with mum not being here.
And through all this, He shows me grace. The emergence of my family in Christ has been a phenomenal eye-opener. They share their burdens with me and make me see how it is okay to be people of faith and yet have tears and sorrows in the face of an inexplicable joy that we share, knowing that our tears will come to an end when our Lord returns. They show me the reality of working our faith out in the gospel and how that includes coping with our disappointments and regrets. There is yet more grace! He shows me that I have had some pretty amazing friends who have been there for me despite our different world views and who’ve been simply magnificent. He shows me that there are times when I can make a difference to the lives of the people I’ve met – whether by my struggles or silly banter or whatever aspects of flawed me that He uses to show love, concern, support and friendship to another person, there is a dimension to me which never would have existed had not I gone through this loss. My significant alteration as a result of my loss has only enhanced my ability to sympathize and empathize. Sheer grace for I am by nature impatient and have in general not been very understanding towards what I always perceived as weakness. My humbling has taught me how wrong I was in that regard. He’s shown me contentment in my new but less flash career. There is joy when I get to help make a difference in someone’s life. He’s shown me grace when He reminds me of relationships that have come about as a result of this different path that I’ve been set on – how blessed I am to know some of the people who have come into my life since I lost mum.
Probably, most significantly to me, He shows me that because of Him, mum was who she was to me. She was the rather amazing person I’ve been describing (probably without doing enough justice!). He has shown me how blessed I was to have a mum who despite both our flaws and disappointments in life, loved me so very magnificently and tenderly. She was an amazing mother, friend, confidant… not someone I’ll ever replace or be able to get over ever. Her life has been a mammoth example to me. I will never forget the words she said to me that night as she worked on that Bible study, when she said: “Anita…there is nothing without the Christ…” I’m ever so thankful to The Lord Jesus for letting this amazing lesson have come through the life and death of my mum for it has further compounded the blessing she has been to me. I’ve lost mum – temporarily. We’ll meet again, soon and that is much to look forward to. I’ve lost mum… temporarily. I’ve encountered grace…permanent grace. I’ve much to be thankful for. 
Grace for the soul 