Yvonne Kandalaft
Beloved wife, mother, grandmother

How can you begin to describe a person? Do you start with their name? Or how they look? Or what they like to do? None of it really seems to paint the person herself. But maybe what they did to the people around them says something, since if nothing else thats what you remember. My teita (Arabic for grandma) was a mother in every way. She always gave an extra kiss, four instead of the customary three. She brought us chocolate which smelled like her strong perfume every time she saw us and only stopped recently because my mom and aunt made her. She fussed over us in little things you would think didnt matter but made you feel loved and cared for. She was always rubbing your arm or holding your hand. She was a worrier and called us every day, she knew our weekly schedule and what we all did and where we went. She couldnt drive or do things like that but she always brought the best mashed potatoes to Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. She would buy us stuff and spoil us and treat you like little kids no matter how old you were but not in a condescending way at all. It was her way of telling us she loved us. She was quiet and shy but when she talked she was very witty. She had something girlish about her, something youthful and delightfully frivolous under her wrinkled skin and dyed-black hair. She loved to tease and laugh and have fun, she loved fun girly things like new clothes and pretty jewellery and nice hair. I guess that shows how your soul is something totally different from your body. But the two are curiously entwined. Why should the person leave when their earthly confines are broken?

It happened on Saturday. I was happy. I'd just come home from my friend's birthday party, all bright-eyed and cheerful even if sleepy. We were having an AWM (Arab World Ministries) Christmas dinner party at our place. And in the middle of it we got the phone call.

My grandma and grandpa were visiting in Michigan when it happened. They were visiting family there and staying at a relative's house. She got up in the morning, got dressed, probably put on a lot of strong perfume like she always does. Did.
She came out and said good morning and just missed the kitchen door. Beside it were the stairs to the basement.

They said they could operate to stop the hemriging and severe internal bleeding in her brain, but there would be only 40% of her making it through, and even if she did she would be paralysed from the neck down and couldn't speak. She also couldnt see already; and grandpa was so old, he already took care of her in every possible way; she would be in a prison in her body. They gave her two hours on the oxygen. They had to make the decision in fifteen minutes, to operate or not. We decided not to, to let her go, for her sake.

She couldnt feel any pain the doctors said, becuase she was in a coma, but they said she could hear everything they were saying. My aunt who was there talked to her. She said she had to let go. She talked about every single one of us. My grandpa, my parents, my other aunts, all our cousins...she told her about how happy we all were and what good lives we were going to have and how much we loved her. My grandma heard it all. My aunt told her to let go, for her sake, it would be better, and she had to stop fighting. Once she said that, her heartbeat dropped. And just as my grandpa walked in and said hello she said goodbye.

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." - The Reptile Room, A Series of Unfortunate Events, by Lemony Snicket

That night Pastor John came over. Sam and Jad came over. We talked about all these strange things like burial services, and transferring her body from the States to Canada for burial. As if she were a package.

On Sunday I kept crying through the morning service. We sat with friends. Mom and dad were in Michigan. Teema didn't know yet, she was in Ottawa with Josh. James and I had to tell her that night when she got back. I almost thought it was harder than being told.

Monday. I didn't want to go to our choir concert. I was afraid of crying in front of everyone and somehow thought it would make the pain hurt more. But we were too involved not to go. So we went. I couldnt cry all day. I prayed all the way there. I started crying with my friends. Then I went up with the choir to sing and couldnt stop crying. Mrs Schuurman hugged me just then and gave her condolences and I really couldnt stop it then, I tried to get out of Mrs Vandenhaak's hug quick so I could get to the washroom.

In the middle of it all an amazing sense of love came through. I didn't know how many girls followed me into the washroom - and stayed with me. Until I stopped crying and they made me laugh about something. I was so thankful for all my friends. Am thankful. And it helped so much to cry with everyone. It did make it more real but it also made healing more real.

I didnt want to do the concert that night, I was afraid I'd start crying and not be able to stop - in front of everyone. But Mrs Schuurman and Mrs Vandenhaak talked to me about it and encouraged me to do it. Everyone was hugging us and saying sorry. Everyone was so gentle and sympathetic. It was probably one of my best concerts as far as performing went, because it wasnt me singing or smiling.

Tuesday was the funeral. I was afraid again, this time of seeing my grandma in the casket; it just sounded kind of disturbing. It was very hard for my grandpa. My aunt was trying to be strong and support everyone but when she came out of the room alone with my older cousin she was crying as hard as all of us. My mom...my dad helped my grandpa. Teema and Josh stood holding each other. James, my two cousins and me sat on a couch and didnt say anything to each other. We just passed each other tissues.

Death Be Not Proud

John Donne

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

I hated the ceremony at the Coptic church. Something about the haunting minor tune the priests chanted, or maybe the smelly incense, or maybe how they mentioned the Virgin Mary as if she could do anything, or maybe just the way it was so dry and traditional. I used up a very thick napkin that I found in my pocket.

When they roll out the casket in funerals is the part that moves me most. At the burial ground I couldnt cry. Until people started hugging me again. Its very embarassing to get snot on someone's coat. I knew they didnt care though. All the drives inbetween were very silent. I don't think any of us appreciated the luxurious limo at all.

Again, I couldnt cry at the reception afterwards.

This morning I woke up. The day felt quiet. I slept in. Just as I got out of bed my mom came rushing upstairs. Sam, my brother's wife, slipped on the stairs. She was fine, but she's 8 months pregnant and her pants were wet. They rushed her to the hospital with my mom and my aunt. The half hour between when my mom left and when my mom called saying the baby was ok (thank God) was the worst of the whole week. It felt like a bad joke, the way it was right after my grandma's death and ironically had to do with stairs too. I was mad at God. But at the same time He was the only one with me there, kind of holding out His arms saying "This is my will, and here I am to carry you through it". Everything we stand in need of...
I didnt know what to do, I wanted to call someone, to help, to do something but there was nothing to do but wait. But I had to do something to keep my head straight. So I pulled out the hymnal and found this song.

Be Still, My Soul

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side;
bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
leave to your God to order and provide;
in every change he faithful will remain.
Be still my soul: your best, you're heavenly Friend through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: your God will undertake
to guide the future as he has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still my soul: the waves and winds still know his voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
and all is darkened in the vale of tears,
then shall you better know his love, his heart,
who comes to soothe your sorrow and your fears.
Be still, my soul: your Jesus can repay from his own fullness all he takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on,
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past, all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Katharina von Schlegel, 1752

"The ransomed of the Lord will return. Everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35: 10

Praise the Lord.