Death

*Ring Ring Ring*

Me – “Tie lair (Spanish pronunciation of Tyler) what’s up” as I walk to the garbage to throw the empty bag of what proved to be a delicious bag of Ranchitas. 

Tyler – Dailia passed away this morning…

And there I was, stopped.

It isn’t the first time someone has died since we’ve been here, Efemia’s sister suddenly passed away in mid September (I was new here and hadn’t even met her), another intern Trudy passed away in the end of December (but I am not sure if I had ever met her), Olma’s (teacher I help) mother passed away in January, but none of those instances moved me.

But there I was stopped, but moved. So the day progressed with the other three returning from a visit cut short in Terrero Colorado. My typing of choir songs and slew of other time consuming lame errands was put on hold, as I changed and ate a quick lunch. Gloomed by the nature of the beast silence was the main companion for most of the remainder of the afternoon as no one dared to test other people’s boundaries or reactions to the situation (which in hindsight is lame and frustrating).

So we headed off to the Casa Pasionista as Dailia was going to be laid to rest today because of her condition due to lack of eating the past few days. We arrived to El Rancho at about 2:30 and after saying hello to the residents of the Casa and a few strangers Alex beckoned Tyler and I to the car. I didn’t really think anything of it until we pulled into a part of the ranch I hadn’t been to, and then I guessed they were making the casket for the burial. Sure enough we stepped into the woodshop and there was a long narrow box with a silken fabric glued around the borders. For the next 30 minutes we watched as the boys in the shop sanded (we helped), stained the base, girls game in with a foam bottom to which the same silken fabric had been stitched, and a matching silken pillow, all which I assume was made at the sewing workshop. As the boys started working on the cover of the casket, Alex the director’s nephew, Tyler, Don Carino, and I headed off to a local pulperia to buy some rope to tie the casket to the truck.

When we had returned they had hinged the top of the casket to the base and were nailing the bands to stop the top of the casket at a 90-degree angle when opened. After allowing the top to dry from the quick stain we carried the casket to the bed of the truck and drove back to the Casa. It was when we placed the casket next to Dailia who was resting peacefully on a bed in the small Casa Chapel I was finally able to sit and say goodbye.

Dailia came to the Casa sometime in November and she weighed about 75 pounds. She was very frail but very friendly. By the end of December she probably would have touched 110 on the scale and had a little potbelly. She had the most warming smile and is the only person to actually give you a full-flush kiss on the cheek as a salutation, as opposed to the cheek-to-cheek smooching sound the rest of Honduras does. I liked being in her presence; it was always a positive environment.

Alex told me today she had cried every day since Trudy had passed away and hadn’t eaten in the last three days. Someone mentioned how food had been causing her a lot of pain, but Don Puri said at the end, everything was too much and she conceded her fight.

To me I am happy I was able to see her go from a frail 75lb patient to a vibrant 110 lb living human. I am upset I didn’t see her struggles, but as so many of us do, with how many people do we show our struggles? I hope she didn’t feel too much pain, and passed on accepting this was her time.

Two members of her family removed the white cloth, and placed Dailia (jeans, t-shirt and white socks) into the 10-minute-old coffin. Once her mother had given the okay, we carried the casket to the truck and drove about 15 minutes on rough terrain back into the mountains. After we crested the top of a hill we started carving into the side of the mountain and up a head you could see about a four-foot high wall of stones creating a square boundary for the graveyard, which was about 50 yards by 50 yards. We pulled up next to the freshly dug site and after laying placed the casket next to the hole. A small prayer was said, and words by the prayer giver, Don Puri, and the mother of Dailia. With her three kids on site, ranging from 7 to 13, her mother said her final goodbyes behind a combination of tears and sniffles and we lowered the coffin by rope. The males of the family replaced the earth and all dissipated.

The 10 minute service at the site was nice, but only the placing of the cross at her feet, saved watching people pile dirt on her casket from being the last thing people did in the presence of her body. Only one person stayed and said something once the dirt had been replaced…I’m glad one person did.

And now to my feelings, I hate how people on this continent deal with death. Death is beautiful, but I can only say that because I believe it corresponds with an immediate interaction with God. The only time three tears rolled down my cheeks and moisturized the dusty terrain below was when the youngest son buried his tear stained cheeks into the leg of an aunt, and I thought how this seven year old will never feel motherly love for the rest of his life. For him I mourned to the point of tears, and I ached for the mom, I don’t think any parents would prepare themselves to bury their children. Not Fair.

Back to my point, death completes the circle of life. And unfortunately, we get so wrapped up in the final stage of the journey, we let it consume us and we fail to see the big picture (doesn’t that apply to most parts of the American lifestyles). I know my faith plays a big role in why I want to celebrate death, but I think people miss a great opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments of the life and give a happy send off.

I am not saying people shouldn’t be upset, and they shouldn’t miss the person and cry. But how beautiful is it to meet with people who have the love for this one individual. And how beautiful would it be to get to know other people who loved this same person as you.

If people were to get together and celebrate my life when God calls me, I’d be moved.