A time to weep
I had a most distressing Saturday this weekend.
It started when a friend, who is training to be doctor, told me how he had been in the hospital during the week and they had lost a patient, a small infant who had been accidentally scalded with boiling water. Despite several days of intensive care, there was nothing they could do for her and she died early one morning. Even though I don’t know the family, and have no further details, my heart went out to them. It is very difficult for any parent to have to bury a child, especially one so young … and in such circumstances. I also thought how difficult it must be for my friend and the other medical staff to lose such a patient.
Later, that afternoon, one of the kids was to tell me how one of his acquaintances, (a young American, just seventeen years old), who had died in a car accident. Once again, I thought about how difficult it is for any parent to have to bury a child, especially one so young and in such circumstances. Apparently a memorial service is being held for him here in Bishkek but the body will be flown back home for burial. There were lots of questions about death and what happens in such circumstances, about whether he should take a day off school and go to the service and how to come to terms with such a loss.
That evening, there were news reports of 117 Pakistani soldiers being buried in an avalanche of snow high in the mountains of Kashmir … and of over a hundred people being killed in Syria as a result of government crackdowns on protestors. Although I didn’t know any of them, I thought about how each one of those two hundred odd deaths represents a person with a family and friends … and I couldn’t help reflecting about what a difficult time they must be having coming to terms with their loss.
It was also the day when the memorial to the victims of the Easter Revolution was unveiled by President Atambaev in the main Ala Too Square, (just outside the White House, where many of them met their end). Once again it occurred to me that each one of those deaths was a person with a family and friends … and not not just a statistic. Once again, I couldn’t help but think what a difficult time those people must have had – both two years ago … and also now, having to relive their experiences.
Finally, as I retired for the night, my eye caught some photos of family and friends that I have lost, and more personal memories came flooding back.
To be honest, it was hard not to be driven to tears …
Usually, I try to be fairly stoical … not showing grief or pain but accepting that “Death is a fact of life”. It is something we have to face and cope with.
Two of the phrases that I am often heard to quote are Benjamin Franklin’s maxim about only two things being certain in life … and Rudyard Kipling’s counsel about treating “those two imposters”, Triumph and Disaster, “just the same”.
These days, however, I find that I feel things much more acutely than I used to in the past.
There is another quotation which came to mind: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: … a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; …” (Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3).
I was reminded of an occasion when my father, (who was already well advanced in years), was watching a news report on TV of some disaster or other, (I can’t remember which), and was moved to tears. He was not prone to such expressions of emotion, and my brother and I looked at each other in embarrassed silence, not sure what to make of the outburst. My father was also embarrassed … but he knew that there are times to weep and, for him, this was one of them.
Perhaps, for me, Saturday was one of those times.
Bishkek