Kuala Lumpur

I left Penang while it was still dark and night had not quite given way to morning. Arriving in KL, I was picked up by two of Hama's cousins. I think perhaps this initial meeting was the one that was most difficult, as we could sort of read in each other's eyes the awareness of all that had transpired since our last meeting. We asked the polite questions inquiring about family and pets and jobs, and then we spoke of Hama. I think I almost felt relieved by this because we didn't give in to any fear of speaking about her loss, and we talked about her and the tragedy of her death within the comfort of friendship. Our first stop was to the morning market to buy fresh ingredients for dinner. It is quite a sight--chickens hanging, fresh fish staring at you, vegetables, and dozens of people bustling around.

Through the National Kidney Foundation of Malaysia, Wellspring began supporting dialysis treatments for Hama in February of 2006. Knowing that it was only a transplant that had the hope of extending her full life, her family began to make plans for surgery. Wellspring planned to help with the necessary medicines and a place to stay. In fact, a doctor friend of ours donated a significant amount of the medication required before surgery.

Two weeks before her planned departure to have a kidney transplant, Hama collapsed and never full woke. They told me her eyes were open, but after losing consciousness for five minutes, her brain never recovered, and so her eyes registered no recognition or reaction. On a respirator to breathe for her, they talked of how much it hurt when doctors and medical personnel so easily said she couldn't be helped, and that they needed the respirator and bed for others.

Hama's mother is a small, sweet-natured woman, but they admirably spoke of the extent of her strength that surprised them as she fought for her daughter. To her, it didn't matter if she spoke again, or if her brain allowed her to work, or even to function at all. Her love for her daughter was never based on that, and so simply to have her live and be loved even if Hama could never show it in return was enough. We talk of how a mother's love is so unique and how even with the many beauties found in different kinds of love, there is something different about your mother. You know she'll never let you go and her love is entirely born out of something inside her that needs to love you entirely for your own sake. If your brain no longer allows you the gift of recognizing that love, and so her sacrifice will never be recognized or appreciated, it doesn't matter to her. For her, the joy and purpose is simply in her need and desire to love you. And when the hospital would simply no longer allow the use of the bed and the machinery, her mother found a way to bring equipment home to keep her breathing, and she prepared to take care of her. But the night before she was to be brought home, Hama's body surrendered on its own and even the respirator couldn't extend the breath of life.

It is now nine months later, and there is a bit of new sadness in her mother's eyes, but it was not outshone by the same sweet smile. She surprised me by speaking some English so well, and she laughed and told me she had just been embarrassed that she would say it wrong and so never tried before. Together with Hama's two sisters and brother, cousins and cousins' children, uncles and aunts, we all gathered at home and really just had a wonderful time together. There was so much laughter and acceptance, I actually felt like I was with family. It almost surprised me because I have actually only known them for a short time, and our visits have been few, yet it just seemed natural. With two young girls keeping us entertained, we all surrendered to their easy laughter and just enjoyed life together over spaghetti, Chinese soup, and shrimp—a little something for everyone! Hama's older sister is working at her first job and is so excited. Her younger sister has just started school and plans to be a lawyer. The loss did not go unrecognized, but neither did the life that remained.

Over coffee late that night with a friend, I was reminded how the realities of life do not always line up with the fairytales. And yet, it seems it is almost what is born out of our loss and struggles that creates the bond between us. For the things we can fix, it is a gift and a call that we should answer. For the things we can't, this is what we have each other for, and the simple act of being there is binding.

As I sit typing, I have watched the sun come up this morning and realize its time to go. I'll board a plane in a few hours and be on my way home.