Helping You To Succeed

“I’m hurting.” That is all she said this morning on a 3:30 video call. She could not sleep.

Yesterday morning she got tested for covid after showing symptoms. Her 87-year-old body, tempered by a life of resilient faith, is taking a beating. Her emotions, challenged and molded over the years is battling another crisis though. The news that her first born, and my eldest brother Isaacson had just died from Covid after two weeks in a coma, certainly had to be the cause of her discomfort. But she does not volunteer an answer to the question I did not ask.

She still smiles through it all. I want to pry, but she has her ways of processing loss. She has waltzed with grief before, from early in her childhood and most recently burying two of her closest friends. She was determined as ever to speak at their funeral despite her pain. Where she finds the strength is no mystery. Her faith remains unshaken, resolute as ever.

Grief is just a part of the journey; it is not the final destination.

“We will rally around the foot of the cross. That’s what the family of faith does.” She finally gave direction as always.

They had been dearest of friends for 70 years. Her pain is unspeakable, immeasurable.

Mothers have this superpower; to read the minds of their children. She could probably see the concern on my face. Today the conversation was to be about her wedding on this day in 1957. An anniversary she still celebrates even though she has been widowed for over fifteen years.

My inability to be physically there for her, hurts me more than the loss of my big brother. There will be a time to grieve, and a time to eulogize Isaacson. Today, I hurt for the living. His wife and his sons Liam and Jacques. And of course, his dearest friend, our mum.

Rest in Peace, Zikk. I will miss you big bro.