Replaying scenarios

Jake and I are sitting on the patio. In the shade with a fan pointed at us it's easy to forget the heat and we can enjoy the calm of a Sabbath and watch the blue of the ocean fade to white as a haze forms blurring the horizon. It's been a good 30 minutes since I opened my laptop. I've sat with the cursor blinking at me waiting for the story to turn cheerful, but my mind perseverates on Danilo and now I give in.

I received a text from Dr. Oscar Friday evening informing me that Danilo had passed away that morning. My heart always breaks at such news, but sometimes that break hurts more severely than others. Dr. Oscar and I had first met Danilo months ago when he came with a complaint of pain and inability to eat that had started after a horse kicked him in the stomach months prior. Over the subsequent months we worked with Danilo, and turns out the horse was nothing more than a red herring. Danilo had advanced cancer, and in the end we could not help him take the last step he needed to get correct treatment. Danilo came from a small farming community hours away from Hospital Loma de Luz. He was not educated and could not read. He had no phone and was not tech savy. But he was content, he never acted unsatisfied with the lot God had portioned for him. At the various crossroads in treatment, when I would present options for our next step forward, he would always defer to me. There was a trust he held that wasn't demanding or deserving; it was a simple, calm and patient trust that I would take him where he needed to go.

Jake has fallen asleep, slouched down and hunched over in his plastic adirondack chair, and the sun is almost low enough in the sky that our shade will soon disappear. So I'll stop here, and hopefully soon I'll be able to likewise stop replaying the possible "what if" and "if only" scenarios. Oscar's text included that the family was grateful for all that we had done for Danilo, and reminded me that he is at least no longer suffering.

I take comfort knowing that Jesus loved him, and cared for him, even to the numbering of the hairs on his head.

A beautiful sunset that God painted for us the other evening. You can even still appreciate the white haze blending the horizon into the sky.

Much Love.