“I used to be afraid,” she advised me. However then a chaplain got here and talked to her and my father, and at last, she advised my father: no extra. She advised him he might nonetheless hope, and she or he would hope, too, for a miracle. However within the meantime, she mentioned she felt prepared and she or he wanted him to be along with her. She mentioned her angel had been in her room all week; she might see him as clearly as she might see me now. I considered how in Cambodia loss of life is simply the top of a cycle, making area to begin yet again.
I helped her to the bathroom and she or he pointed to her C-section scars, all 4 of them. Then she requested if I had one. I unbuttoned my denims, pulled them down barely. “They’ve gotten higher, haven’t they?” she mentioned. That is the place we meet, ladies and our our bodies. I advised her the story of my daughter’s beginning in Bangkok and she or he mentioned, “I like that story, Rache.” I sank right down to my knees on the ground, laid my head on her hospital mattress beside her hip. She put her hand on me.
Then she mentioned, “Can I speak to you concerning the Lord? I simply need to as a result of he’s my life.”
I nodded.
Jesus was on her proper facet at that second and her guardian angel was on her left. She might see them. They didn’t speak, besides as soon as to say that every thing can be all proper. She simply wished me to know she might see them, her angel and her Jesus, that they’d come to assist her on her journey to wherever and no matter got here subsequent.
I nodded, listening. I believed her. In fact I did. We journey with our ghosts. Who higher to steer us to what comes subsequent? Our subsequent life, our heaven, the beginning of a daughter, a brand new mom, an outdated one.
I understood then. She wasn’t telling me a narrative of Christianity or religion or spirituality. She wasn’t even telling me a narrative about God. She was simply telling me a love story. And I used to be a part of it.
Rachel Louise Snyder (@RLSWrites), a professor at American College, is the creator of the forthcoming memoir “Ladies We Buried, Ladies We Burned.”
The Occasions is dedicated to publishing a range of letters to the editor. We’d like to listen to what you consider this or any of our articles. Listed here are some suggestions. And right here’s our e-mail: letters@nytimes.com.
Comply with The New York Occasions Opinion part on Fb, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.
