‘Remembering with love a very dear wife and valiant mother. Areli Kim Yoong Ri,
I felt those engraved words upon the gravestone with my fingertips. The two marble angels beside the gravestone witnessed in silence as sorrowful tears rolled down my cheeks. I gave my words to her not to cry during her last days.
But Lord, my heart is weeping; weeping so painfully. With my entire soul, I loved her.
Her funeral ended an hour ago. Our close relatives and friends had long left the cemetery. I stayed behind. Life and Time could wait just this once for me to say my last farewell to sweet Areli.
~*~
“Good morning, Martin.”
“Good morning, doctor.”
The tall man in a white lab coat smiled pleasantly at the small boy who was sitting on a wheel chair under a stout, shady tree. The nurse beside him greeted the doctor as well, informing him that the boy had just undergone his chemotherapy.
“You should rest in your room,” advised the doctor, kneeling down on a knee before the twelve-year-old child, tugging on his blanket to make sure he was kept warm and safe from the late afternoon wind. He was taking a stroll in the hospital’s park where he met one of his cancer patients.
The boy’s eyes saddened. His face was pale and appeared sickly. “Doctor, will I live to see tomorrow’s blue sky?”
The young man observed him. His experience whispered to him that he might not live past that month. Waving the morbid thought away, he said, instead, “Do you want to see it?”
“I do, doctor.”
“Then, you must fight against your illness with everything you have and never lose hope,” answered the doctor as he gripped his shoulder reassuringly.
“But I am tired. Why can’t I be like other healthy children?” questioned Martin.
“Martin, to be alive is a great thing,” he said, “there are times we wish for things we do not have but we often forget what we already have.”
Martin stared at him, distrusting. “What do I have except cancer and pain?”
The other smiled at him meaningfully. “You have your family… and us to support you. You are not alone.”
The gloomy face suddenly lit up with a little but grateful smile.
A soft ring came from the inside of the doctor’s lab coat’s pocket. He fished for his PDA and chuckled to himself. “I have to leave you for now, Martin. My father is waiting for me… Oh, your parents have come to visit you!” he added when he saw a couple headed in their direction.
“Thanks, doctor.”
“No problem, remember what I’ve told you, Martin.”
~*~
“Your wife is currently suffering from advanced breast cancer.” My wife’s obstetrician, Dr. Gao, announced, her countenance filled with professional sympathies.
But let those professional sympathies be damned!
I thought I would cry. It was not the case. I supposed tears would mean grief and grief would mean acceptance. Instead, a white blank appeared in my mind. I simply could not accept it. How could I when Areli looked so perfectly fine, sitting beside me?
“There… there must be a mistake, doctor,” I breathed, my hand unconsciously tightened its clench on hers. I glanced at Areli and back at Dr. Gao. “She can’t be…”
The doctor sighed. She laid out a number of medical reports before me on the desk. I skimmed through them in puzzlement; unable to understand, refusing to understand.
“We’ve run through a mammogram and biopsy with your wife. We detected the tumour too late. The results lead to the diagnosis that she is—”
“I don’t believe you,” I snapped. I did not want her to repeat the cursed words. I fervently hoped that it was all a horrifying nightmare.
“Zane, please,” begged Areli. I held eye contact with her, searching desperately for even a feeble doubt in her. There was none.
Dr. Gao tried to reapproach me. “I’ve checked Mrs. Kyeong’s family medical history. Her mother’s sister was also a victim of breast cancer. This could explain—”
“Look, if you’re so sure my wife is sick; give her whatever treatment is needed! I can pay for it!” I growled, suddenly furious. Why did this have to happen to Areli?
The obstetrician said softly, “The cancer has spread to other parts of her body. I would suggest immediate combined modality chemotherapy but… the womb will not viable with cancer treatments…”
I sank into the chair, limp. I finally understood the dilemma.
~*~
Before I knew it, a tear trickled down my cheek.
The church was vacant—the priest and I were the only occupants. I looked up to the cross which was hung above the altar. Here I was, twenty-five years after Areli’s death, finally confessing to the priest of my grudge against Him.
I wondered why I chose to do this confession now. Was it to ask for God’s forgiveness for blaming Him on taking away Areli away from me? No, I still did not understand why I had to lose her. Perhaps that was it. I wanted to know where He was when I was at my weakest.
~*~
I never had an option. Areli was set firm with her choice. She refused to get rid of the baby. “If I lose this child, I’ll lose the will to fight cancer!” She would not hear of abortion. None of it.
“The cancer treatments will kill our son, yet it cannot guarantee my life but Zane, I will wait long enough so that he will live. It satisfies me to know that my son will be a part of this world. I want him to have the chance to enjoy the sheer joy of living!”
When I heard those determined words from her, I knew I could only stand by her despite my primary objection. Her reasoning was too strong. Moreover, I did not have the heart to deny her wish. I decided she never had to know there was a selfish part of me, which yearned for her to forsake the child to lengthen her own life.
I spent all of my free time with Areli after that. She possessed the strength enough to sustain us. Some of the days were passed peacefully, as though she was not terminally sick. Others I passed in anxiety when her cancer pain struck abruptly. Those were hellish moments. I wanted so much to bear those pains for her. Even so, she would smile and assured me that she was fine.
Areli gave birth to a seven-month-old baby boy. She was so delighted to greet him as his mother. While my son responded well to his care, my wife’s health began to deteriorate in June 2004 although she had begun her chemotherapy. A scan showed that her tumours were still growing. It was obvious. Her cancer was no longer curable.
On the day she died, I was with her, lying beside her. She gripped my hand and I could feel her heartbeats slowing down. I was helpless. We both knew her time was up.
“Take care of Amadeus, Zane… Let him know… I want him to live happily and… thank you, Zane… for loving me. Do not grieve for me because… I am only returning to our Father…”
Those were her last words. She slipped away quietly, a contented smile etched on her lips forever.
~*~
“And did you love your son, Zane?” asked the priest in a fatherly manner.
I nodded once. “Amadeus is Areli’s legacy. I love him as much as I have loved his mother… but Father, where was God when I prayed to Him to keep her safe? Where was He when I cried during her funeral? Where was He when I struggled through all those agonising times?”
The priest sighed, “My child, He has always been with you. You simply did not realise it. Your wife saw that she could not live for long and she chose to leave behind a son for you to ease your pain and loneliness. Because you have your son, you can face tomorrow. He became the reason you live on; the reason to be happy again.”
I gazed at him. “Father…”
“In Latin,” the old priest added, “‘Amadeus’ means… the love of God. That is what your wife gave to you.”
I was awestruck but a voice rang through the church. “Dad, I’ve come to take you home.”
We turned to see my son walking toward us. Amadeus quickly apologised if he was late, telling me that he was with a patient before he came. I stood up from the bench, staring at him, fresh tears wetting my eyes. He was surprised that I embraced him out of the blue. I could not have loved him more as a father.
I returned my attention to the priest. He blessed us both and said, “Go in peace.”
I always asked myself how I would face tomorrow’s world after Areli was gone. Now I knew how I had the strength to carry on all these years. Because I have God’s love, I can continue to face tomorrow.
Inspired by noble cancer mothers who sacrificed their lives for their babies.
