Loss and Regret

 Idadi was my neighbor.  Every day as I left the house I would see him, sitting on the stairs that lead up to his office.  He rarely actually went in his office.  Mostly he sat on the stairs.  I would wave and we would exchange greetings.  Sometimes I’d go over and sit with him.  He liked to tell me about how he used to travel.  All the places he would go—China, Dubai, India, etc.  He had been a big business man once.  But now he didn’t do that much any more.  He mostly stayed outside his office, sitting on the steps.

And then one day a few weeks ago, he wasn’t there.  He died suddenly.  His brother says he was sitting in his chair looking at his tablet one moment and the next moment he had slumped to the floor.  A doctor was called, CPR was tried, but it was too late.  They don’t do post-mortem exams here, but the assumption is that he had a massive heart attack and died.  We learned he was probably in his fifties/sixties, we thought he was younger.  It was not expected.

I was surprised to see how many people showed up at Idadi’s funeral.  The place was packed.  When I went to a secondary event which is usually less heavily attended, I was again surprised to see hundreds of people come.  His brother told me later that they had expected about 500 people to come and instead had 1000.  They had to run out and get more water for all the guests.  A week after that I sat with one of my friends and he told me the sad story of Idadi’s life.  

Coffin loaded on a truck

Idadi had been a well known man, an entrepreneur.  He had started businesses and then handed them off or sold them to others.  He had had his hands in all sorts of things.  He was a rich man, building a big house up the hill (where the rich people build their rich houses).  But one day, about ten years ago, it all crashed.  His business deals went bad (my friend was hazy on the details).  He went broke.  The bank repossessed his grand home and he went to live with his in-laws, a broken man.  After that his life was spent going from his home to his office, sitting on those steps, not doing much of anything anymore.  Everyone said, he wasn’t the same person after that. The loss had touched him mentally. He was a broken man.   I had never heard this story before.

Idadi's funeral procession

Idadi never shared his story with me, but perhaps I never asked the right questions.  I never shared the good news with Idadi.  I don’t really know why.  It just never seemed like the opportunity arose (and it’s not usually too hard for opportunities to arise here).  For whatever reason, I never shared with him.  Idadi was a broken man.  His heart failed him in the end, but perhaps it had already failed him many years before.  And now I look back with regret.  We carry in us words of life.  Healing for broken hearts.  Hope for those who have lost it.  But I never shared that hope with him.  I just assumed he wasn’t interested and it never came up.  He seemed content.  There are plenty of guys here who spend their days in front of their shop watching the world go by.  I thought Idadi was one of those.  But maybe that’s just because I don’t know their stories.  Perhaps each of them has a similar history of loss, grief and brokenness.  I don’t know.  But perhaps what I take for contentment is actually a mask—like it was for Idadi.  Perhaps Idadi would have turned a deaf ear to the good news I wish I had shared with him, or perhaps not.  I will never know.

I take solace in two things.  One is that, Idadi was a neighbor.  He saw us everyday.  He saw us interact with others—we are vessels of hope and life, temples of the Spirit—perhaps it kindled a flame in his heart.  Idadi also traveled a good deal at one time in his life.  He may have heard the good news in his travels.  Maybe, before the end of his life, he may have thought about the truth that he heard.  I may be grasping at straws, but there was mercy for a thief on a cross, perhaps there is some for Idadi too.  

PRAYERS ANSWERED
Over the last few weeks we have been a part of many funeral events related to Idadi’s death.  This has been a chance for us to draw closer and show our love to our neighbors.  Our daughter had her choir tour— it was tiring, but overall a positive experience. We had another set of visitors (this time workers from the French island). It was great to meet them and get to know them. One of them was ill and we’re thankful that an island friend and doctor was able to see her, and that she left feeling better. We have been having some rain that has helped to break up the heat.

PRAYERS REQUESTED
Our guests from the French Island have reminded us how difficult things have been there. For over a month, the whole island has been shut down by protests and violence and blockaded roads. Pray for a way forward towards stability for that island. Pray for the brothers and sisters on the small island as they try to decide what to do to remember the two workers who had invested years there who recently died. There is just one full week before the month of fasting begins on the islands— pray that we could be thoughtful and prayerful in preparation for that time. Pray also as we talk with others about when and how to do a larger gathering in that time. Pray for our teammate as she begins an internship at the hospital as she considers doing occupational therapy (she is trained in that, but has been teaching English here so far). The women will gather for their monthly study this week— pray that it would be encouraging and challenging and that those who haven’t attended the past few times would be able to come.