part 2
I posted yesterday about how someone in my house died on Sunday. If you haven't read that, read it now.
Since both my wife and I had heard completely different accounts of who had died, we both started to second-guess ourselves. It sunk in that we still had no idea what happened. By the time we got to church, the shock of the tragedy and the sense of human loss had given way in my mind to more practical, selfish concerns. George's death, while sad, would not greatly affect our day-to-day lives. Mary's death, on the other hand, would have pretty drastic consequences for us. Since the house is in her name, free and clear, she would probably leave it to all four of her kids. In that case, given the way the family is situated, I'm guessing they would sell it and split the money. That would mean we would have to find another place to live, and probably quickly.
Mrs. Happy and I have never intended to stay in New York forever, and have always assumed that we would one day return to Texas whence we came. Right now we feel like we still have more to accomplish here before we leave. But we would probably interpret the loss of a job and the loss of our living space within a week of each other to be a fairly direct communication from God that it's time to leave. That thought and thoughts that proceeded from it occupied my mind on Sunday morning to such an extent that I don't remember much of anything that happened in the worship service at church.
After church, we still felt funny about going home. We were afraid we might meet someone outside and have to talk to them as if we knew what was happening. We didn't want to ask, because we should already know. And on top of everything, we needed to pay our rent but had no idea whom to give the money to. So we went out to eat. Going to lunch didn't resolve any of the issues for us, so we went to a movie (Mona Lisa Smile). I lost myself in the movie, but the events of the day came tumbling back once the end credits started rolling. At that point, we had nowhere to go but home.
Many, many family members had packed into the ground floor and basement of the house. No one stopped us and quizzed or asked us any awkward questions, so we went straight to our apartment. On the way, we overheard a couple of conversations that made it clear that it was our landlady's son who had died.
Yesterday (Monday), Mrs. Happy painted a watercolor picture of an iris and wrote a note of condolence that we both signed. We gave it to her after I got home from work, let her know she was in our prayers, and offered our services whenever she needs them. Although Mary complained about her son a great deal when he was alive, he was still her baby and she is hurting more deeply than I can fathom. She told us she feels more alone now than she ever has in her life.
Looking back, I see that I should have been more forthright, more compassionate, more helpful to the family who had suffered such a great loss. But I felt flustered, foolish, and ill-equipped to function around a large, grieving family in an Italian Catholic culture I know nothing about. Once the extended family have all gone home, we intend to provide more concrete assistance than the "Let us know if you need anything" that we have offered so far. This is an opportunity for us to minister to a widow in need, and we also know that God brings the best things out of the worst tragedies.
