Life After Death
What happens when the worst happens?
(From the July - September 2021 issue of VOX)
During last year’s Finding Faith Tour, VOX editor Ruth Garvey-Williams had the privilege of ‘meeting’ [on Zoom] with Shaun and Tania Abrahams in Kerry. They shared how they were holding onto God’s promises in the face of Tania’s terminal cancer. Sadly Tania died on 18 December 2020. Here Shaun shares honestly about his journey since then.
I remember when my kids were born. One minute there are four people in the room and then there are five. Life had come into the world. When you watch someone die, suddenly life is gone. The body is there but the person is somewhere else. The permanence of death gets to you immediately. I think in the first couple of weeks after Tania’s death the reality hit. I don’t think I have ever felt so much pain at any time in my life. It is weird to explain but it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Nothing could compare to that sense of loss when you love someone with that sort of intensity.
As a pastor, I’m used to talking with other people. In the past I’ve told people to push through it, to “man up” and get on with life. It is much harder than that. The only other relationship that comes close is our relationship with the Lord. It nailed me the first couple of days. If it is this painful, imagine what it must be like for people who have never known the love of God?
In the last two years I took care of Tania. She became sweeter even though the pain became more intense. The Lord did something beautiful in her life as she approached that final hour. There was a warmth about her, a remarkable amount of peace and joy. I don’t have a single picture of her where she is not smiling. We have no regrets. She finished well and I’m not thinking I should have done this or that. We were blessed with that.
“If it is this painful, imagine what it must be like for people who have never known the love of God?”
And yet there was a time in the beginning where the pain, the loneliness and separation were almost suffocating. It felt like someone was standing on my chest. One thing that has helped me a lot emotionally was starting to paint again. I spend a lot of time drawing and painting in watercolour.
One of the chaplains in the hospital said she went through a bad patch in her life and she worked with white chalk on a black background - moving from darkness into light. For me, with watercolour you cannot paint the light, it is on the paper already. It is like the Lord Jesus. He is the light of the world. There is no darkness in Him.
I suppose it might sound like a cliché but when we are weak, His power is made clearer to us. My Father in heaven knows about suffering. His Son suffered.
Probably the one thing I have learnt the most is to pray. So many people go through life pretending it is okay and never telling God the problem. I come to value telling God what is going on in my head and heart. At that moment I talk about the inner things, about my concerns about the future, that is when I get more emotional. But there is a tenderness and a peace in realising I cannot do this by myself. When you are done, you know your heart is not troubled any more.
I’ve been reminded that He is with me. We sometimes long for His presence but we already have it. God’s presence has become more real for me. When I’m driving in my car and normally I would be talking to Tania, instead I talk to the Lord and tell Him what I would be saying to her.
“We sometimes long for His presence but we already have it.”
I’m lonely at times and it is okay to tell people about your loneliness. I’m thankful I have some really good people around me. These are people who know me well and will speak the truth to me.
This has given me a bit more understanding and compassion. I’m more aware of the number of people who live by themselves and I can understand why loneliness can get to people. It is important to remember that when it comes to grief everyone has their own pace.
