Lelayu

So I have this friend named Endah. She's not a super close friend, but close enough that when her older sister passed away last night, I felt that I should go to the funeral today. (In retrospect, the funeral was at the perfect time - I got to miss teaching 9th grade! They only had a test though, so it was easy to get a sub to sit in there and proctor for me.) I'd never met Endah's sister, Maria. I knew she'd been struggling with pretty serious breast cancer for most of this year and that she lived in a different town but moved back here in March-ish to be closer to her family while she sought treatment. I also knew that she was married and had no kids. Other than that, no info.

In case you haven't read anything I've wrote about Indonesian funerals before, let me just say that death is very raw here. There is no sugarcoating it. No funeral homes, none of those guys who prepare dead bodies whose job title I can't think of right now because my English is so bad, etc. The family cleans the body and sets it out somewhere in the house. They gather up all the plastic chairs in the neighborhood and set them all out in the street in front of the house and mourners sit there for the services and prayers held on the front porch/driveway, then they go into the house and look at the dead body - usually with the mouth taped or tied shut so stuff doesn't start coming out - and shake hands with each family member. Also, Indonesians don't really cry a lot relative to Americans.

So this morning, I went to the funeral. Sat outside on the green plastic chair under the canopy in the middle of the street until the pastor was done assuring us that she's in a better place. Then I went inside to look at Maria's body, this woman whom I've never met and now never will, and shake the hands of all the family members I've also never met. Imagine my shock when I got halfway through the shaking of hands and found myself face to face with a shaggy looking white guy with a British accent and very very red eyes. I politely shook his hand and moved on.

As soon as we were back in our chairs, I asked a friend why a white guy was inside. "That's Maria's husband. They used to live in England until she got sick." My first thought, of course, is, "Wait. Maria was married to a white guy?! How did I never know this?!" And then my second though was, "Why on God's green EARTH would you LEAVE England and come to INDONESIA to get treatment for cancer?!?"

Here's the story, as far as I've been able to piece together from different accounts throughout the day (I went back for a prayer service at 7 PM also). Maria and George (that's the British husband) lived in England until she got sick. She decided that she didn't want any traditional treatment, but rather herbal/natural treatment. Also, she wanted to be close to her family. So she moved back to Indonesia. George came back with her, but only for a month or two at first, then he had to return home to take care of business, I assume. He returned to Indonesia about a month ago when her condition continued to worsen. At that time, I am led to believe that she had neither breast left (they burst is the account I heard) and only about a quarter of her lungs, but was somehow still hanging on. Three weeks ago, George encouraged her to stop treatment.

I actually heard about that last part before I ever met George. It made perfect sense to me. That is the hardest decision one can ever make, I'm pretty sure, to let someone die rather than watch them continue to suffer, merely painfully prolonging the inevitable. But sometimes, in my Western mindset, it is the right decision. However, I also understand how that is not at all the right decision for most Eastern thinkers. So I was confused, having not met George and not knowing the color of his skin, that he would have made that decision. Once I met him, it all made sense.

Long story short, Maria's family is very mad at him. He took her away from them once when they moved to England. And he took her away from them forever when he told her to stop taking her medicine. For the family, it is George's fault Maria is dead.

They wouldn't even let him in the room with her when she died. They made him leave.

And now here he is. Alone. Living with her family who seem indifferent to him at best. No friends here with him. No family of his own here to support him. He speaks only the smallest amount of Indonesian. And the woman he loves died last night.

I am also led to believe that while Maria was a Christian, George is agnostic.

Tonight at the prayer meeting, George was nowhere in sight. Then several of us got up and sang "It is Well" (talk about a spontaneous singing group. I showed up and was handed the lyrics and told to get up and sing). George appeared. Later, after everyone else had gone home, we had a chance to ask him how he was doing. This is what he said - "Earlier, I was alone in my room. I didn't want to come out. I couldn't come out. Then I heard you guys singing 'It is well with my soul'. And there was something about those words... There was an energy I can't explain. I had to come out. I had to see who was singing. I needed to be here. I needed to feel that energy. It made me stronger. It helped me so much. Your presence here helps so much. I don't even know you guys, but I want to thank you so much for coming. It helped me. Thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you..." And then he started to cry.

All day long, I've been thinking about George. He doesn't even speak Indonesian and he's here all by himself with nobody he can grieve with, nobody who understands him, nobody he can even talk to. I felt very strongly that I needed to let him know that he didn't have to be alone, so before I left, I went over and talked to him for a little bit. I said, "I don't know how long you're going to be here, but this group of friends (motioning to the mix of Americans and English speaking Indonesians standing around) hangs out quite a bit. So if you ever find yourself in need of some time out of the house or just someone you can talk to in English, Endah has all our numbers... Don't hesitate to call someone." He shared with me what a hard time he was having, because so many people want to talk to him and ask how he's doing, but he can't express himself at all because he doesn't speak Indonesian. He feels very alone. He said that having someone he could talk to would be really good. Then he asked when we have fellowship. So I told him when and where (3 houses down from the house he's staying in!), and he said he would really like to join us.

I guess I'm writing all this because George is very heavy on my heart today. I can't even imagine the situation he's in, and I can't imagine how it could be any worse than it is. But I don't want to forget about George and the things he said tonight.

I want to ask you to pray for him. He said earlier that this is a dark time for him, but that he knows the light is there and that he will see it again soon. Pray that the light that he finds is the True Light, K? Thanks.