The good lord will take you away

The final prayer. ________________________________________________________________

I can't exactly remember when it started, but i know it wasn't a habit formed too long ago.

These days, whenever i read the papers nightly, i actually do glanced through the obituary section.

I used to ask my mom in the past why she does that, thinking it seemed like such a ridiculous thing to do. But tonight, i found myself starring at those lifeless pictures of those distant strangers.

But perhaps, death isn't so far away. No it's not, when you are in a ministry for the terminally ill.

Just last week, i was at a dinner party at the insitution. They were thanking the volunteers for all the work we've been putting in for their patients. A casual conversation with a fellow volunteer informed me that one of my ex-patients is going through "his last stages".

I couldn't really believe my ears. That guy, i thought, he was the uncle with the great supportive family, the high tech one who always had his laptop and handphones with him wherever he went, the one who was always so eager to talk to us when we visited, the one who's really one of the more "normal" ones!

I remember the first time i visited him. I walked into his room, he had a single ward then. On his bed, was an IBM laptop. And so i thought his kids brought it for him, but he told me it was his. Apparently, he's a pretty well off businessman who has business in many parts of asia. He uses his laptop to get work done whenever he's checked into the hospital. We went into a long discussion about the latest plasma monitor and had many equally engaging sessions after.

And then there was the the other patient. The scary looking one no one really dared get close to. For a start, he only has one eye. Yes, you heard me right. One eye. The other "eye" is pretty much just a hollow socket. He's bald too with a huge scar across his scalp thanks to a brain operation. So, when you put that face and that head together, it's pretty scary.

But somehow, we hit it off.

I remember that night i stood by his bed and he asked me: " I wonder why God still doesn't want to kill me." I was dumbfounded. I stood by his bed and ended up telling him one of my lame jokes to cheer him up instead. A few sessions after, he begin to look forward to my visits. And one night, he told me: "I am so happy when you come, because you always make me smile."

A sentence like that and it just keeps you going.

Then, i had to be transferred to care-housing because of my class schedule. And the last i heard of that scary looking uncle, he was also in his "final stages", battling lung cancer together with his already terminal disease.

Then today. I had to see that sight.

Him shivering on the bed, hovering under that thin sheet, shaking on his dirty bed. His skin was all black and flaky by now. It's been this way for weeks, but i always thought that it would get better soon, real soon. But when i saw him running a high fever, lying on that dirty bed all alone, it really pains me.

I felt so helpless, useless even. We tried to get him to go to the hospital but he just wouldn't. We tried to get him to eat something, but he just wouldn't. Eventually, he told us to leave him alone for awhile. And so we left the room, worried and dejected.

Finally, he did appear and join us all downstairs. It was then that i realised how much weight he's lost. A week and he's gone down that much. He wasn't in much of a mood to talk, he was too weak. And so i sat by his side, chiding him while he dragged on a fag with a shakey hand. Suddenly, he broke the silence. He told me how much it pains him that his kids wouldn't even bother visiting him when he's suffering through this hell alone. He's furious, yet resigned. Yet again, i fell into one of my stumped silence.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him "it's okay". I couldn't being myself to tell him "it's alright". Why? Because i'm really not sure it's okay and alright. I can't tell him that while i see his horrible skin condition and weaky spirit. 2 painkillers every 3 hours to battle off this disease. Refusing to go to the hospital because he's already lost faith in the doctors. Can i blame him?

And so i called his daughter up. All she said was "mmm, ahh...huh....ok". Perhaps that was all she could say. Betrayals and hatred, it has scarred their relationship.

I left everything behind. I went to service, i made my faith pledge, i ate a fantastically delicious dinner with my mom, sis and bro-in-law and life seems to be going on so good and normal.

But when i came home and read the papers, when i was looking through the obituary, i found my mind running. Running and thinking that one day i will see one of those faces plastered here, right at the end of their journey.

"The thing that's most important, is that we were the only ones who walked through their last days with them," my senior encouraged. "And remember, none of them left this world without first wanting to accept Jesus into their heart."

Yes, i guess that's more than enough.

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