My Christmas Miracle

A year ago or so, my friend died. Her passing left her family, her friends, her coworkers, and me, lost.

Not that any of us hadn’t anticipated her death. We had, even though whenever we spent time with her or each other we draped ourselves in a childlike hopefulness that denies the reality of terminal illness. We hoped like children who believe Santa Claus can transcend physics in order to drop a toy at the home of every child on earth in one night. We clung to promises offered by repeated FDA-approved treatments or subversive non-FDA-approved programs. We prayed for a miracle – even a simple, garden variety miracle that, in a broken world seemed within the realm of possibility. Yet, her health steadily declined.

Throughout her illness, my prayers for my friend changed. At first, my pleas were for her recovery. Later, after her brief remission lapsed and treatments got more aggressive, I prayed for God to give her strength, and, I prayed He’d give her husband and children strength too. Toward the end I suppose I gave up on the elusive miracle and prayed for solace for all of us, most especially for my friend. Hours before she passed, my friend said two things to me. First, she said, “It’s so hard.” And then she followed with, “I am not afraid.” Her courage was immense.

In the months since my friend’s death, I have traveled a path of transition. It has been a hard road and many times along the way, I have been very afraid. Whenever I’ve needed courage not to abandon the transition that, I hope, will lead me to a more meaningful existence, I’ve recalled the final words of my friend: It’s so hard and I am not afraid. Her words give me solace because, during transition, there is a death-like process that requires you to you leave behind the comforts of what’s easy or familiar to venture to a land perhaps you’ve only glimpsed in your dreams, like heaven. Leaving what you know … changing … it is hard.

The daily miracle of life, of course, is that we get time – time to heal, time to cry, time to ponder change, time to muster courage, time to reflect back on friends who through their life and in their death, helped you change your own life. A year after her passing and almost a year into my transition, I’m finding change to be less difficult to face; an uncharted future no longer fills me with fear as it did just four months earlier. Perhaps, some of the solace I’d prayed so hard for last year found its way to me so now, with the help of my friend who exists in the past tense, I can craft a meaningful work in present tense and share with her some of the credit.

Last year, my friend’s death just before Christmas erased all of the joy that comes with the season. This Christmas, her strength and courage endures to inspire me. I can glance at the snow just beyond the Christmas tree and instead of weeping that she died I will smile because she lived and because she was in my life.

Imagine that. In a broken world, miracles are within the realm of possibility. Just accept what’s hard and push forward, like her, unafraid.

Milaad Majeed (Merry Christmas)