Gustavo

I haven't been looking forward to posting about this and to some extent it seems pretty futile to do so since most of you probably already know about it. But it wouldn't be right to omit it from my blog. So, here goes...

My host dad Gustavo passed away at the age of 68 on Wednesday the 15th at approximately 3:50pm from what they’re saying was a heart attack. He’d gone to the hospital early on Monday the 13th (like midnight/1am) and later that day they found water in his lungs and gave him meds to help with that and he seemed to be responding well. They also found that his heart was somewhat enlarged so after being in observation on Tuesday, he was going to have a catheterization for diagnostic purposes on Wednesday. He died just before the procedure. He had been just fine before Sunday the 12th when he'd just felt really tired… so it was a shock to the whole family because we'd really thought he'd been getting better on Tuesday and Wednesday. He was diabetic, but even in the hospital all his sugar and blood pressure levels were looking really good until the end.

He was buried the next morning at 11am. Due to the measures being taken in Honduras for all deceased persons—whether the doctors suspect they were infected with COVID-19 or not—no one was allowed to see his body and only 10 people were allowed at the burial: his wife (my host mom, Aurora), his grown children, his sister, and a couple other close family members. His grandchildren and I, along with his children-in-law and many neighbors and friends, were among those who could not go. This was a man who likely would have had hundreds of people at his funeral under other circumstances.

Things in the house are... weirdly normal... well, pandemic “normal.” Aurora has expressed trust in God’s timing and gratitude that it happened during a time when her children don’t have to go to work and her grandchildren don’t have to go to school so the family can be together and support each other. Although I don’t entirely agree with her theological perspective, I too am glad that she’s not home alone after such a loss, especially when her children’s employers may not have been sensitive to requests for bereavement leave.

I’m doing alright, I think. I’m finding time to grieve and remember with my host family, time to talk it through virtually with people close to me including my family in the States and my MCC Honduras team, and time to escape and have fun both with my host family and virtually with others. I'm appreciating it when people reach out to me. And I am very grateful to be with my host family right now... I cannot imagine how extra-painful it would have been if I had left a few weeks earlier and then this had happened. I still feel like the safest thing for me to do in my current situation is continue sheltering in place with my host family and doing what I can to continue the work of my position remotely.

Gustavo's hammock has been conspicuously empty these past two weeks. His chickens are also gone; he'd had someone lined up to inherit them. They came to take them away on the 17th. I'll sign off for now with a picture I took the day of the burial and shared on my Instagram with the following reflection.

Grietas

Curse the cracks that open up and swallow.

We were keeping a safe distance from the pit, or so we thought

But the ground shook, yawned wider, and we fall prone

Supported by the new precipice only up to our shoulders

Forced to peer down in

It was a hot day, but the miasma that emanates chills to the bone.

Careful! These clay jars are our inheritance

Stop putting them so close to the edge of the table

They're already cracked

The twelve o' clock news of ten at eleven? Curse the cracks that forbid goodbyes

But the jars have sunlight inside

And their cracks let them share and receive it

And they can still hold food, we almost forgot

So in the first hour of a strange new day

Unexpectedly

There is laughter.

Bless the cracks.