Princess Z

"Auntie Kika painting your finger nails. Mama Aggie giving you your medicine. You reaching your little arm out of your bed saying, "Auntie, Auntie!" wanting me to hold you. You laying on the couch coughing under your pink, zebra print blanket. Your throw up running down my leg after you refused to eat for almost an hour. Your squeaky little princess voice. I miss it all.

Its only been a few hours since you left us here. I was just laughing at how you refused to let mama Nam hold you and the next thing I know, I am sitting in my bunk tears flowing because you are gone. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to move right now. But you know what sweet girl? I know where you are. I know you're at the feet of Jesus, getting your nails and hair done by an angel. It makes the edges of my mouth turn up right now. I just know that's where you are, and strangely, I have peace about it even though my heart is grieving. I know you're better off than I am right now, beyond my imagination."

These are the words I wrote in pencil under my headlamp on Wednesday, November 28th 2012. It was then 10:00, five hours past the time Z left us. Some days I still don't know how to feel, or what to say, or even how to move. It was a day filled with sorrow. The house was strangely quiet. About an hour after Z's passing me and the other aunties had to opportunity to say goodbye to Z. We lined up like school children and proceeded to the back door and down the back steps. It had rained that morning and I had no shoes on. As I walked across the red clay I felt the mud smash up between my toes. In that very moment I was thankful. I wasn't sure how, but I was. God made that red clay, and the rain to make it into squishy mud. He is so intricate. He showed me this as i continued to walk towards the concrete room called our office. He is so detailed and he can splash those details into a picture. The big picture that I will never see. I waited my turn outside of the doorway to see Z one last time. My thoughts were frozen. Is she really gone? I stepped into the room and saw her bald head and still body beneath the white sheets. I cried fast and hard. I weeped . My tears falling onto the white sheets around her. I knew it was okay to cry. God's Word says there is a time to mourn and a time to rejoice. We were mourning. I didn't fully take it in until that moment when I saw her body. Z wasn't there anymore. Just a completely still body. No heart beat or breaths to make the sheets move. That is when I first saw death. I prayed over her. I don't remember what I prayed. It's all a blur. But one thing I will never forget is her cold, still forehead beneath my lips as I kissed her one last time. That will never leave my memory.

I knew Z for exactly two months, to the day. It's not a long time but if you knew her, you would know she could encompass you, and pull you in in less than a minute. After only being in Uganda for a week I went with her to one of her weekly checkups in Kampala, anywhere from a two to four or five hour drive. These days were long days. When I went with her that day, she was in a lot of pain. I held Z from the moment we walked down the Ekisa ramp to the hospital doors, back to the ramp. She was tired, hot, and sweaty. As was I. But I had no complaints. If she wanted her Auntie to hold her, I would. We bonded that day. We were sweaty and tired together. I remember the night her aunties took shifts in order to feed her through her feeding tube and to hold her. Z sat in my lap, in front of my laptop, fast asleep for my two hours. Yes, it was not comfortable. But now, I wouldn't trade it for the world. On November 27th, the day before she left us, I held her in my lap. I rubbed her skinny, cold legs up and down because it made her feel better. A diva. I told you :) 

I wish I had held you longer that day, sweet girl. I wish I had looked at your face a little longer that night Z. 

The days are still hard. All the aunties sleeping in, eating fun-fetti cake for breakfast, watching movies, and just cuddling. It's okay for us to have these days. But my mind has gone astray. I didn't understand why the hurt was getting worse the farther away from Wednesday I got. I have been looking to movies, friends, and the kids to distract my mind instead of running to Jesus. I want this house to be filled with joy again. We will run to Him. He will bring the Joy!

Some moments, I just wish to see Z laying in her bed or on the couch with us. These moments hurt. But then I sing praises to God because she is so much better now. No more pain, no more tears, and no more sorrow. 

It took her death to make me understand the value of life. Sure, if you had asked me before Wednesday I would have said I valued life. But now I value life. 

Don't let death be the reason you learn to love.

Have you kissed your loved ones like you meant it yet today? Have you shared the story of God's son to someone yet today? Have you just stopped and prayed for, or over someone? Don't let death be the reason you begin to live.Will it take seeing a tiny body cold and still beneath white sheets for you to realize what God has us here for? Don't let that happen. 

Photo by: Emily Worrall