“Sometimes, simply being present is enough”

“My grandpa has died.” A young child from our kindergarten in a Bedouin village in the desert of West Bank tells me this. Simple words that move me deeply. How does a child experience the absence of someone they love? What does death mean to them?

Abu Yosef has died. He was the head of the community, the father of twenty-three children, the father and father-in-law of many of the women who embroider, and the grandfather of generations of children who have attended the kindergarten we have been accompanying for years.

His family is also part of our story, part of the life we share week after week with the Bedouin communities.

When we arrive at the village, one of Abu Yosef’s brothers welcomes us: “God knows best. Blessed be He.”

He is the second brother to die of a heart attack. In his words, I recognise the faith of someone who knows the pain of a sudden death and yet surrenders himself to God.

The mourning period lasts three days. When we arrive, we find the women gathered together, dressed in black and wearing no make-up.

They offer us coffee and dates and invite us to sit with the family. One of the daughters holds the Qur’an and reads silently. Amid memories, tears and silence, a prayer is repeated: Allah yerhamo — may God have mercy on him.

I sit beside an elderly woman, the mother of one of the deceased’s wives. I am struck by her clarity of mind and her memory. As I listen to her, I think of how much history and wisdom are held within the lives of our elders.

Just two weeks ago, the family was celebrating a wedding. Today, they share the pain of loss.

From where we are gathered, we can see the men preparing mansaf in large pots over the fire. According to tradition, this is the meal shared with the family and the community on the third day of mourning. Life goes on, and no one is left alone in their sorrow.

We come to accompany them, but we, too, are welcomed and taught.

Perhaps that is precisely what mission is about: sharing in the life of a people and sitting beside those who grieve. Sometimes, simply being present is enough.

Rest in peace, Abu Yosef. Allah yerhamo.

May God welcome you into His mercy.

Sr Cecilia Sierra, CMS