Closure

This Christmas season should be missing out on the joys of holidays past, for my dear wife and their family, and for myself as well. My mother-in-law has been diagnosed with colon cancer in its advanced stage.

Events unraveled rather fast. I recall minor complaints of physical inconvenience every now and then; but nothing that would have made us even remotely think that a serious threat to her life was underway. We all went about the happy, deprived, problematic, and humid business of living our intertwined lives. We fought, argued, criticized, hoped, and dreamed; we loved each other nonetheless.

Then, as suddenly as lightning can strike on a clear, sunny day, the hibernating, frightful disease woke up from within her. It commandeered everything she had available: Her strength, her appetite, her lifespan, and her unfinished business. She now lives on shorter borrowed time and, although we don't discuss it, our common feeling is that this holiday season is the last she'll spend with us.

I share in the pain of everyone who loves this marvelous, simple woman: She who always hopes for the best, but contentedly settles for least and mediocre things. It takes little to make her happy.

I miss the liveliness in her eyes now. She has the look of resignation on her face. In all likelihood, she feels pain, but she does not speak to us about it.

My wife took after her. She perennially endures the indignities of a life lacking in material comforts, the outcome of my restlessness and imprudence. And if one day she will fall ill like her mother, I surmise that she would also be as resigned and uncomplaining.

It's all in God's hands now, as everything really is. Science can only offer to cure physical wounds, soothe some of the pain; love, kindness, and compassion prop up the spirit; but all life rest in The Great Arbiter.