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Wife of one. Mother of two. Sister of three. Just trying to get it all figured out before it's too late!

Friday, April 26, 2013

Dadou


The last time I talked to Dadou was January 30.  We talked for over 40 minutes.  I asked him about his new job with the Haitian Embassy.  He told me about the possibility of obtaining a position in another part of the country when his training period finished in three months.  I asked about his daughter Dounya.  We talked about the weather in Fort Wayne. He thanked me for calling and told me how happy hearing my voice made him.  I did not tell him I loved him.  If I'd known it was going to be my last chance to do so, I surely would have.   He was shot 3 days later and died 6 days after that.  He was buried on his 28th birthday.

I can't count how many times Dadou told me, "Manman, mwen manke mouri jodi a wi."  (Mama, I almost died today!)  It was often enough that I no longer took the statement seriously.  He was always claiming to have narrowly escaped a near-deadly accident, or contracted a near-fatal case of malaria.  There was one time, however, when I did fear for his life.  It was January 12, 2010.

After the 7.0 m earthquake that hit Haiti, I spent a miserable 48 hours without news from Dadou or anyone in his family.  I remember laying on my bed and shaking with sobs as I imagined Dadou dead, or worse, trapped alive under piles of rubble where he would spend several days scared and in pain before dying all alone.  My mother's-heart broke, because Dadou had been a son to me for many, many years.

Dadou drove me mad.  I loved him, but he made me crazy.  Sometimes, I would get so angry at him that I wouldn't even recognize the person yelling at him.  But then, he'd write a note explaining why I needed to be patient with him or compose a  poem using the letters of my name and leave it on my pillow.  Or, he'd bring me a token of reconciliation - such as an icy cold Prestige or a plate of griot and pikliz.  And he'd make promises about how he was going to change and how happy he was going to make me.  I'd melt, but slowly.

It was sometime in the afternoon of January 14 that I was finally able to reach someone in Haiti who could verify for me that Dadou had survived the earthquake.  It was another day before I finally heard his voice.  In the weeks leading up to the earthquake, Dadou had been suffering from severe back pain, so bad in fact, that he had taken to walking with a stick for support.  A couple of days prior to the earthquake, he became bedridden.  On the day of the quake, a friend came to help Dadou make a trip to the doctor's.  They managed to carry him from his one-room apartment and get him into a vehicle.  Dadou was in the process of returning home when the quake struck.  His description of that time was horrendous!  He told me that the dust from the collapsed buildings was so thick and heavy that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face.  He had been in a tap tap (public transportation vehicle with an open back side) when the quake struck.  Several people in the tap tap were badly injured.  It would be several days before Dadou was able to make it back to his apartment and when he did, he found nothing but a block-wide pile of rubble.  Everyone who had been in the building died.  I felt myself go weak when I realized that had Dadou not gone to see the doctor that day, I would have lost him.  I didn't know then that my relief was merely a respite....

Over the next three years, Dadou continued to do things that made me happy and things that made me furious.  And I continued to love him.  He helped me deliver supplies and aid to victims of the earthquake and at night we slept on blankets under the stars surrounded by strangers because it was unsafe to sleep in buildings.  He helped me with the logistics of getting two little girls whose mother died in the earthquake and whose father died from AIDS, adopted by an American family.  He drove me to appointments when I was in Haiti and ran errands and made deliveries for me when I was in the States.  We made plans for a future that involved him coming to the States where I would cook lasagna for him and take him on long road trips to see America.  His future was filled with promises to help me shovel snow in the winter and rake leaves in the fall.  The year he turned 30, he hoped to marry (although he did not have a bride picked out yet!) and I was going to be the "marraine" at his wedding and witness as he pledged to love and honor his bride.

The bullet that eventually took his life, took his leg first.  His right leg had to be amputated just below the hip, leaving him just a couple inches of stump.  When the doctor told him that they were going to have to amputate his leg, he said "Well, better to lose my leg than to lose my life."  I never got a chance to talk with him after the accident but his sister tells me that he was upbeat and encouraging to those around him, especially his mother.

I talked to his sister on the morning of February 8.  She had left the hospital to run some errands but she told me that Dadou was doing much better than the day before, when he had had to be put on dialysis and had been in a lot of pain.  I understood her to say that when she got back to his hospital room, she would call me so I could talk to him.  I spent the day waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting......  Around 5:00 that afternoon, I got a call telling me that he had passed away during an emergency operation to remove more of his leg.  When I talked to his sister later that evening she asked me, "Why didn't you call?  Dadou was waiting for your call."

It seems that I misunderstood her and this misunderstanding robbed me of my chance to tell Dadou how much I loved him, to thank him for the years of happiness he'd given me, to remind him of the lives that were changed because of his passing through.  Although I had purchased a plane ticket and was planning to be with him in a matter of days, I decided not to attend his funeral because I felt it would be a better use of  the money to help with his medical and funeral expenses.  Many of my friends did attend though, including my friend, Romel, who told me that never in his life had he seen so many people attend a funeral.  There were hundreds of people who were not even able to enter the church, it was so crowded!  Dadou simply did not know a stranger.  Everyone he met became a friend.  Dadou had a hard life, he sometimes would go all day without finding anything to eat.  Yet, when he did have, whether it was money, food, or even the shirt on his back, he would share without hesitating with someone in greater need.  In spite of living in difficult circumstances, he loved life and although he sometimes felt discouraged, he looked forward with enthusiasm and hope to tomorrow.  In all the years I knew him, he never once said no to any favor I asked of him.  He was loyal, compassionate, funny, clever, and loving.

It's going on three months since Dadou passed away.  My body is going through the motions of living a normal life and I'm finally able to think about him without crying, but he's still there, in my heart and in my head, every second of every day.  I hope Dadou knew how much he meant to me.  I had a reasonable expectation of spending many, many more years together and I certainly never thought he'd leave this life before I.  His death has made personal the mantra to "seize the day."  I have this moment right now, but I may not have the next.  I hope I'm effective at letting the people who remain in my life know how much they mean to me - every second of every day!





Monday, May 28, 2012

Reflections

Life has been hard lately.  I've been trying to get through my days by finding the joy in each moment and not thinking about tomorrow, or the day after....

This strategy has more or less worked for me, but it's been much more of a challenge for my husband.  He is stuck in Haiti where it's almost impossible to find joy in any given moment.  He's had to deal with oppressive heat, primitive living conditions, limited resources, corruption, illness, hunger, surrounded by folks conditioned over decades to expect a hand-out and not think for themselves.

Since losing his job back in June, he's been trying to create other sources of income for our family.  It was this pursuit that landed him in Haiti back in early March.  After three months of giving it his all, he is ready to come home, defeated.

Last week, I sat curled on the couch in my pajamas and listened to him tell me that he just couldn't do it anymore.  He needed to come home.  He asked me to make a reservation for him sometime during the second week of June.  He sounded broken and defeated.

While we were talking, I saw a car pull into our driveway.  The driver was a large, black man.  I told Eddy I'd have to call him back.

I stood at the window and watched as the large man unfolded himself from the front seat of his car and grabbed a cane from the seat next to him.  He lugged himself upright and began a slow, labored shuffle up our front walk.  He looked familiar to me.

I met him at the front door.

"Is Eddy home?" he asked me.

"No.  He's in Haiti.  Can I help you?"

"I used to work for him at the mission," the man said.  And then, I realized who he was.  He had been a cook at the time Eddy lost his job.

"Oh, yes!  I remember you!  You worked in the kitchen.  What is your name again?"

"Roy," he told me.

I recognized the name immediately.  Eddy had lost his job over an incident involving Roy while Eddy was off on a week's vacation.  Eddy felt his days at the mission were numbered, but had been surprised when Administration decided to use the "Roy Incident" as the reason for his dismissal.

Roy stood there and looked at me through watery eyes.  He shuffled a bit with his cane and then began telling me how much Eddy had helped him.  He told me that he was now living in Bloomington and was going through the "program" there.  He was back in Fort Wayne for a short visit.

He told me that Eddy had helped him through some very rough times and because of him, he had hope for a better future.  He told me that he just wanted to come back and thank Eddy personally for taking an interest in him and helping him.

I told him Eddy would be so glad to hear from him and I assured him that the next time I talked with Eddy, I would relay his message.  He stood there for a few beats longer and I thought he was going to start crying.  Or, if he didn't, I was afraid I might.  Then, he turned around and shuffled back to his car.

After he left, I went back inside and thought about the last several months.  Roy was just one of several men from the mission who came to our home looking for Eddy after he lost his job.  All of them quite emotional and expressing similar feelings of gratitude for his involvement in their lives.  I've even been approached on a couple of occasions by men who are strangers to me, men whose lives have been touched by Eddy and who recognized me as his wife.  It's been my privilege to accept their expressions of gratitude on Eddy's behalf, to hear their stories of how Eddy touched their lives.

I shared the story of Roy with Eddy and he told me that over the last several months while he has been in Haiti, he has had similar experiences.  Folks have shown up at his door to tell him how his wife has touched their lives and helped them through a difficult time.

We had to laugh at that; while I've been here accepting expressions of gratitude on Eddy's behalf, he's been in Haiti accepting expressions of gratitude on my behalf!  And we realized that our lives are full and rich.  We may not have much left in the way of material resources, but life continues to be filled with opportunities to be involved in the lives of others.  And when all is said and done, isn't that what really matters?

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Eagle Marsh

Last week, I heard on the radio that there is a group of hikers who hike through Eagle Marsh every Tuesday.  After spending the last few days celebrating the holidays by picking it up and putting it in my mouth (no matter what "it" was) I woke up this morning unable to zip myself up into my favorite jeans.  I decided to join the hikers, even though I would be going all alone and didn't know a single person.

"Dress warm," my oh-so-very-wise daughter said to me when I told her of my plans.  What she should have said was,"Wear wading boots, a rain slicker, and gloves."

I showed up at 9:00 with these boots on my feet:

what my hiking boots looked like

but what I should have had on my feet were these:

what my hiking boots should have looked like

Just standing by my car, waiting for the others to show up, my feet began to get wet and cold.  There was a wet, soft snow falling and although it looked pretty, it was making things very wet and soggy.  I also had on black stretchy pants and a little ballerina skirt under my coat.  When the other hikers arrived, I overheard one of them say, "Is Tinkerbell there really planning to hike in that outfit?"  Eagle Marsh is a wetland preservation and it was wondered aloud if I knew the meaning of "wetland."

As the men were trying to figure out what trails they could hike with me and my "boots" one of them remembered that there was an old pair of wading boots in the barn and so we sloshed over there and I tried them on.  They were three sizes too big for my feet and the insides were wet and cold, but I didn't want to ruin any body's good time so I pronounced them "Great!" and off we went.

There were five of us.  Two Dicks, a Keith, a Bernie, and myself.  Had I not been there, the median age would probably have been about 75.

But I had such a great time!  We hiked for two hours and slogged through some areas where the water came mid-way up my calf.  My boots were squishy with water and my toes were tingly with cold.  The snow dampened my scarf until it was stuck to the sides of my face and my hair was hanging in soggy strands.






We walked through an area of the marsh called The Cathedral because of the hundreds of tall trees and we walked along the railroad tracks that divide Eagle Marsh from Fox Island.

Looking up through The Cathedral
Dick in The Cathedral

along the railroad tracks

It was evident that this was a group of men who walked together regularly and they shared stories and anecdotes with each other as we hiked along.  But they were careful to include me in all the conversation.

Bernie, Dick, and Keith's hat in the background

I was particularly glad for the wading boots when we passed through areas like this!

Dick

Bernie

Dick and Bernie

When we got back to the barn, the guys invited me along for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, but I already had lunch plans.  Maybe next time though, because I'm definitely going back.  They invited me to join them with another group that hikes on the second and fourth Fridays every month.  I need the physical exercise and it's fun making new friends.  And it feels good to spend the first couple hours of the day connecting with nature.  If any of my local friends want to join me, let me know.




Sunday, December 4, 2011

A Visual Update

I've been gone for several months and lest you think it's because I was laying incapacitated in the hospital, I thought I'd give a brief synopsis of what I've been doing.

Here goes:

Bought a truck to send to Haiti.

Truck for Haiti

Went to auctions and sales, buying "stuff" to put in the truck and send to Haiti.

Storing "stuff" in a rented facility
Loading truck with "stuff" for Haiti


Sent truck to Haiti.

Hung out at the Johnny Appleseed Festival with family and friends.

Mom, Dad, and me at the JA
My mom and dad
My dad, gathering popcorn off the ground for consumption

Attended the opening of a new Burmese/Thai restaurant, Akaungzarr.

Akaungzarr Asian Restaurant


Went to Haiti.

Visited with the children from the tent school that Mustard Seed helps support.

School Administrator, Martine, looks on while a young girl opens the day with prayer


Went to the American Embassy for a visa interview for the two little girls whose adoptions I am facilitating.

Kate Nerlande (5) and Ellie Shilove (3)
the girls are exhausted after their interview!

Met my namesake, Marialyn, who was born October 25, 2010.

The two Marialyns

Came back from Haiti, but left Eddy behind!

Attended the Kathina (robe-giving ceremony) at the Lao Temple.

The ceremony
One of several money trees


The Monks


Man bringing his offering
Ladies bringing their offerings


Food is always my favorite part!
Monks are served their food on bamboo trays

Had a couple leaf-raking parties.  Thanks to family and friends for helping out!

Mike, Blake, and Dad
Marilyn (Melissa in background)
Jennifer and Todd
Tommy
Eddy and Dad


Attended a Buddhist wedding.

The bride and groom

Spent a wonderful week in Minnesota with my kids.   We stayed at the relaxing and beautiful Cove Point Lodge on the shore of Lake Superior.

Lyndy and me along Lake Superior

walking along the shoreline

Split Rock Lighthouse in MN
Lyndy and Lucas at Split Rock Lighthouse




Celebrated Thanksgiving.

More food than we could eat!
Upstairs folks

Downstairs folks

Sent my daughter off to work and live in Boston.

Lyndy moves to Boston with only a book bag and a single suitcase!
Love you too Baby!
Enjoyed the first snowfall of the season.

snow on bush


And of course, as always, I spent lots of time doing my two favorite things:

Cooking

Thai tapioca dumplings stuffed with spicy pork and peanuts
Pretzel rolls
Acorn squash stuffed with quinoa

And spending time with my Sister!

Jenni (hic) fer!!!

I think that pretty much gets you all caught up!