Child Brides of India

By: C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 59: Lesson in Faith, (Mgg, cons, rom, no sex)

The nurse and the attending physician came rushing in when the flat line on the heart monitor registered at the nurse’s station. They saw me holding my expired bride in my arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. All the women in the room had fallen to the floor sobbing and wailing in agony over our loss. The doctor solemnly pulled the curtain to shield Faatina and her mother from seeing Emmy’s lifeless form.

The doctor hung his head and I could see a tear fall to his cheek. He checked on Faatina and turned to me, laying his hand on my shoulder. He tried to comfort me by saying “I am so very sorry for your loss. I wish there was more we could have done. If it’s any comfort to you, she went quickly. Sometimes, children hang on for days in excruciating pain. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I could not be consoled. I just clung to Emmy’s lifeless form and rocked her like a babe as I sobbed in agony. After about ten minutes, Mom enfolded both of us in her arms and whispered, “She’s gone, Sean, let her go. She’s in a far better place of happiness than we could provide for her.”

Shaking my head and crying out “No! Oh, God No! Why? Why not me Lord?”

I felt a sudden sting as Mom slapped me hard across the face and said firmly, “Look at me, Son!”

I snapped out of my agony long enough for her words to register and respond. She took my face in her hands and said, “She’s gone, Son, she’s gone. You have two wives here that need your strength. Do you think they loved Emmy any less? Is your pain greater that theirs?”

I couldn’t let her go and clung even tighter to her. Mom slumped on the bed next to me and said as she wept, “I was there when she took her first breath and I was here when she took her last. Do you think your pain is greater than mine?”

“But why, Mom?” I pleaded for an answer.

“We’ll find that out when we go to meet her,” she replied softly.

Mom gently put her hand on my thigh and said, “Let her go, Sean, Priya and Leeya need you. Your duty now lies with them. Comfort your wives and share your grief and we’ll all get through this together.”

Something in my mother’s loving tone made me realize that she was right. I gently laid my alabaster bride gently on the bed. I lovingly straightened her hair and folded her hands in her lap and kissed her soft warm lips before stepped back.

Priya stepped forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, as did Leeya. Mom enfolded her arms around Emmy’s head and whispered “Good-bye my little angel” and kissed her lips softly.

I hugged my two wives to me firmly as we wept in each other’s arms. Holding my wives, I felt an out of body experience where I had a sense of floating aimlessly lost.

This was my first experience with the death of someone I was so close to and loved. I had no experiences to draw strength from, except my mother. Feeling lost, I asked Mom, “What do we do now, what happens next?”

Mom, no stranger to death, calmly said, “The first thing we need to do is get you an injection. You kissed Emmy and you could contract this awful disease yourself. Don’t kiss either of the girls until you’re medically cleared. Understand?”

Mom called for the doctor and informed him of the circumstances and I was given an injection ten minutes later. Mom asked Priya to attend to Leeya as we spoke to the doctor in private.

Mom said she didn’t want to discuss arrangements in front of Leeya. She asked the doctor about Emmy’s remains and he said that because the circumstances of her death were medically documented, there wouldn’t be an autopsy and that they could hold her remains for several days until arrangements could be made.

The doctor said that they would leave her in her bed until we left and that they were going to move Faatina to another room in about thirty minutes or as soon as a bed was ready. Having recovered a modicum of coherency, I asked him how Faatina was.

He said that she’ll live but it’s still uncertain whether or not she’s sustained any brain damage, hearing or speech loss just yet. That will become known in a few days, maybe a week, when she’s recovered from the symptoms. I told him “Spare no expense! Give her the best care that money can buy.”

He replied, “This is a very modern medical facility and we’ll give her the best care we can, but now, it’s up to her and her will to live. As you can now see, a matter of an hour can mean life or death with this disease. I believe that if she’d gotten here any later than she did, she’d be gone also. What made the difference was that it just took a few hours longer for the symptoms to present themselves. These things are in the hands of God: that’s all I can say.”

Mom and I returned to Priya and Leeya. Leeya leapt into my arms and cried, “Please don’t die, Sean, please don’t die!”

I was going to kiss her but stopped. Instead I hugged her to me and comforted her by saying “I’m not going anywhere for a long time. Besides, you have to give me a daughter don’t you?”

Sniffling she shook her head at me and with a forced smile replied, “Uh huh, and I’m gonna name her Emmy Marie after Emmy.”

I started to cry as I smiled with admiration for my youngest wife and said, “Emmy would be honored. That’s a wonderful and loving gesture.”

I hugged Priya to me as she quietly cried. We stepped to Faatina’s bed and Priya translated as Alpa said in Tamil, “I’m so sorry for you and Emmy. What about my baby? Will she be alright?”

I sighed, looked at Mom and she nodded so I said as Priya translated, “The doctor said she’ll live, but they don’t know yet if there’s any damage.”

I looked to Mom for help but she mouthed the words “Tell her the truth.”

I took her hand and said softly, “She may come out of this okay or she might have some hearing or sight loss, and the worst that could happen is that she’s suffered some brain damage due to her brain swelling. They just won’t know for a few days or possibly a week.”

After Priya had translated what I’d said, she laid her head on her child’s stomach and cried, “What am I going to do if she’s damaged by this?”

Mom hugged her and comforted her by saying “They’re doing all they can for her. We’ll spend millions if that’s what it takes, okay?”

Alpa nodded and thanked my mother for her gesture. Mom asked for my phone and said, “I have to call John and tell him. He’ll be crushed.”

As Mom walked out the door into the hallway, I had the greatest admiration for her and her strength. Where does it come from? She’s been the pillar of strength for me, for Priya and Leeya. She’s buried her favorite sister and now it will be two generations of her sister’s family.

I suddenly felt ashamed for my selfishness. Outwardly strong, my mother is wrenching with grief over the loss of a part of her lineage. There will be no more from the line of Aunt Cindy’s genes. I wept within myself as I realized that I had not only lost a bride, but generations to come of children from my mother’s sister: a part of my heritage.

I said a prayer of thanks to God for His mercy and not letting Emmy suffer needlessly and for strength. I prayed for my mother and for my grieving wives who’d lost a very dear sister and also for me to have the strength to lead my family into the future. I looked into the obsidian black eyes of my soul mate and almost collapsed at the thought of losing her. In one short year, she’d become my beating heart, my very breath, my will to live and my strength.

I thought it ironically funny how men think of themselves as the stronger sex. A man would literally die of heart failure giving birth to a child. We men are just oversized boys who, like my mother joked, need their noses wiped, scolded and corrected, told to play nice and need cuddles like a baby. It’s as if we’re just along for the ride, doing the bull work and leaving the real work of life: bearing children, caring for home, children and another child called a husband to the women of our race.

Mom returned and we could see the pain etched in her face as she tried valiantly to put on a face of strength. I had the feeling that she was running on pure will. She walked to Emmy and stroked the side of her face and softly said, “It’s time to go, say your goodbyes.”

I kissed Emmy’s freckled button nose as Priya and Leeya stroked her arm. I looked back at her in her perpetual peaceful slumber as we walked out the door.

The ride home was bitterly quiet and somber; the only sounds were an occasional sob as we grieved together over the loss of Emmy. It was like a nightmare, an incredibly horrible nightmare. One day she’s here, laughing at the prospect of getting married, and the next… gone. She’s gone.

We arrived home at about seven. Looking at the grandfather clock in the hall, it reminded me that Emmy had been gone for two hours already. Time… they say it waits for no one and I guess it’s true. It’s strange how things from our past slip in and out of our consciousness. I remembered a verse in the Bible from Ecclesiastes that said, “There a time to be born and a time to die. There’s a time for everything under the sun…”

“Everything under the sun…” Would there be a time for our sorrow to end? Will there ever again be a time of happiness for us that live? Right now, time only reinforced the pain of not having her here with us, planning our wedding, being joyful and hopeful for all that we thought the future would hold for us.

I had a splitting headache, but the hole in my heart was more painful. I heard Pita cry out in Tamil from the kitchen and I knew Mom had told her of Emmy’s passing.

With a heavy sigh I walked to the dining room where the women were sitting. A few minutes later, Pita brought us tea and after taking a sip felt sick. Everyone got jumpy and I quelled their fears and said that I was just upset. Mom handed me my phone… strange I hadn’t even realized that she still had it.

After wiping her face with her hands Mom said, “Your father will be here in the morning. He’s on a plane here now. I know that you may not think this is a good time, but we have decisions to make.

Leeya asked, “What decisions, Momma?”

Priya hugged her as Mom said, “Sweetie, we need to decide where Emmy’s going to be buried.”

The three of us looked at each other as if to say, “I don’t want to deal with this.”

Mom said, “Here’s my opinion, for what it’s worth. If Emmy had married Sean, she would have lived here with you. I think Emmy should be buried here, in India where you kids live and make your home. She was a part of your family and even though she’s my Goddaughter, I think she’d want to be here, close to the three of you.”

Leeya replied, “Can I go see her when I want?”

Priya kissed her cheek and said, “Yeah, we can go together and visit her. You need to remember though, Emmy’s body will be here, but her spirit is in heaven with Allah and her Momma and Daddy.”

Mom added, “Since Emmy wasn’t a Muslim, I know she probably would have converted, but point in fact, she was still a Christian and I’d like to give her a Christian burial. Is that alright with you, Sean?”

“Yes Mom,” I replied, “A Christian burial will be fine.”

“Now,” Mom said, “here’s where the problems may arise. I’m not sure if a Christian can be buried with Muslims. I just don’t know the rule. You’ll have to find that out tomorrow, Sean.”

Trying to shake the fog from my brain, I shook my head and asked, “Huh? What’d you say, Mom? Sorry I missed that.”

“I said,” Mom repeated, “you’ll have to find out tomorrow if a Christian can be buried with Muslims. If she can, I suggest that you buy burial plots for all of you so that when the time comes, you can all be together.”

I nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ll call the Imaam tomorrow and find out.”

Mom took a sip of tea, looked at me and said, “Your father will be here tomorrow. If you can’t handle this, Sean, John and I will. I need to know now because we have to take care of this and soon.”

“No, Mom,” I replied, “I may need help, but it’s my responsibility to take care of her.”

“Priya,” Mom said, “Call your father and ask your parents to come over. Apologize for the late hour, but tell him it’s important.”

Priya nodded and took Leeya’s hand as they went to the study to make the call. Mom said, “I know how you feel, Son, but you’ve got to at least drink something. If you get sick, this family will fall apart. You’ve got a family to think about. This, Son, is the college of life and we don’t get to choose the lesson plan: there are no electives.”

I looked at her angrily because I thought her remark was callous and said, “How could you be so insensitive?”

“About what, Sean?” she shot back as she leaned forward against the table, “Emily is dead. There’s no bringing her back. No matter how much you hate it, think it’s unfair or cruel; it’s a fact you have to face. You can wallow in your sorrow in due time, but if you really loved her enough to make her your wife, you’ll care for her until she’s buried.”

Reaching across the table and taking my hand Mom said, “You need to live in the here and now and right now you have a five year-old wife and a twelve year-old wife that needs their husband to continue loving them and help them realize the happiness of starting a family one day with them.”

She continued with, “Do you think for one minute that you can let the events of your life dictate your happiness? Is your life over? Is theirs (as she pointed to the study)? What you have with those girls is a one of a kind, very remarkable thing. It’s so remarkable that Emmy wanted to be a part of it. Since that won’t happen, does that mean your family will fall apart?”

Mom straightened herself in her chair and said, “No one! And I mean no one loved that child as much as I did, but all I can do now is be glad that I was able to bring her a measure of happiness while she was alive.”

Mom was now sobbing, stood and pointed her finger at me and said, “Don’t you dare call me insensitive! You have no right! I was there when Cinny went through hell to bring Liz into the world and I was also there when she bore Emmy. I brought you into this world, Boy, and no one, believe me no one knows the indescribable pain of losing a child as much as a mother who’s borne the pain of giving birth to one! I’ve lost two Godchildren: kids that I helped raise and nurture. I fed them, clothed them, nursed them, wiped their shitty asses and diapered them! That’s all water under the bridge now because they’re gone, but that hasn’t stopped me from loving you or Priya or Leeya.”

She sat with a thump and said, “Here’s a fact of life, Son, and you can take it with a grain of salt if you wish, but love is for the living. I’ll always carry the love I felt for Cinny, Liz and Emmy in my heart to the grave, but that love is only a flickering memory, a snapshot in time of the love we shared while they were alive. You can’t love a ghost: they can’t you love back! Don’t waste your time on the dead, love those that are with you with every beat of your heart and soul and hope to God it’s enough… just hope it’s enough. Love the memory of Emmy and the gift of love God gave you to share with her while she was here. Honor Emmy by loving those you can - while you can because today you’ve learned painfully that tomorrow, they may be gone.”

Mom covered her face and cried as she continued, “You don’t understand, Son the pain I feel. I feel the pain of losing my sister, her daughter and her daughter’s daughter. I’m reliving all their deaths right now. I also feel the pain that my other children feel: your pain, Priya’s and Leeya’s and I wish I could take it all inside myself and shield you from this pain… but I can’t. Some of the pains of life God makes us all share; He never gives us more than we can bear. One day when you have a child and that child scrapes her knee, you’ll cry with her but she’ll only feel her pain. You’ll bear yours silently and with the desire to take away all her pains in life, but sadly you’ll realize you can’t. You have to find within yourself the strength to grieve for Emmy, let her go in love and still look forward together with your family with hope. Without hope there’s only being. Here, Now, with them you’ll regain your smile, the laughter, the pitter-patter of little feet and the thirst to share every breath of life with them, but don’t wallow in coulda, woulda, shoulda’s: just live and love those you’ve been blessed with to love.”

She slumped back in her chair and finished with, “There. I’ve given my sermon for the day. Now go check on your wives, they need you.”

Her words stung my torn heart and I had the feeling that God had just spoken to me. I’ve heard tell that God can only mold you into what you need to become when you’re truly broken and the only way forward is through Him. My mother’s words cleaved my heart asunder and cast it to the four winds and I now felt totally broken.

With tear-filled eyes, I went to my mother, sank to the floor and as she embraced me with a mother’s love, I wept as a child in her lap.

“Please forgive me, Momma,” I cried, out. “Right now I feel lost! I’m a lost little boy and I don’t know what to do.”

Momma gently kissed the top of my head and she cooed softly to me, “Yes you do, Son. You have a special love to give some incredible young women. Just love them with all that you have.”

She gently pulled my face from her lap to look at me and said, “This may not make sense to you right now; the death of a child never makes sense. You will find that if you can summon the courage and strength from God to be strong and give Priya and Leeya the support and guidance to overcome this, you’ll find that by being strong for them and help them get through this, God will begin to heal your heart by helping others. If you withdraw into yourself, you slowly close the doors of your heart and slowly suffocate yourself from giving and accepting the love of others.’

Stroking my face she said, “It’s easy to be strong when life is good, but the mark of a true human being is the strength, compassion and love we exhibit when it seems all but impossible to give. God giveth and He taketh away. He’s taken Emmy from us but He will bring a new joy into your life because He knows your sorrow, He feels your pain and He hears your prayers.”

I sat back on my haunches and wiped my face as I looked at Momma with a child’s eyes. Her words were a soothing balm to my spirit as she continued, “You’re a man, but think of Leeya. She may be your wife but she’s a five year-old child. What do you think she’s going through right now? Or Priya. We all look at her as a grown woman but she’s still only twelve. Don’t you think she’s thinking in the back of her mind that that kiss goodbye you gave Emmy might be the kiss of death for her soul mate?”

Mom sat back and looking up said, “I don’t know what the future holds for you and the girls. Whether or not you’ll marry again or how many children you’ll have, but you need to accept the will of God. Someday your father and I will die and you’ll need to strong again for your family. Think of your faith. Death is just a transition in our lives so that we can enjoy the fruits of that faith with God. It’s ironic how people say they believe in God but when we need to trust Him most, we question His judgment.”

“Life involves pain, Son,” she said softly. “Life changes and with that change comes pain. It’s not that we don’t want to change, it’s the pain that comes with change we shy away from: whether it’s quitting smoking or exercising or even death. No matter how many people die around you, it never gets easier to bear. By embracing that pain, Son, you embrace change: whatever change God has chosen to make in your life. He’s preparing you for the next step in your life. God has lessons He wants us to learn and He keeps presenting this lesson until we learn it before moving on to the next lesson. His timetable is eternal and He’ll wait while you stand in that darkened room to see if you’ll open the door, step into the light and move on to the next lesson. With each lesson comes a cost and with acceptance comes a blessing. That’s why God’s blessings are so precious because we know what it cost us to receive them. God has not forsaken you, Sean. Your heart is broken, but He will mend it with something just a precious if not more than what it cost you. Trust Him.”

She patted my cheek lovingly and ended with, “Now go. Go to your wives, they need you. I have been strong for you, now I need to be alone and grieve for my baby in my own way.”

With that, she rose and went upstairs.

I sat and was overwhelmed by the lesson in life my mother had just lovingly imparted to me. I was in awe of my mother’s faith and felt I now felt a sense of calm, still in agonizing pain, but calm and I realized what I had to do. Mom was right: I’m still alive with two wives to care for and life will go on. I rose from the floor and started towards the study. The clock said eight-fifteen. I saw my wives huddled together on the sofa in each other’s arms sobbing.

When they saw me in the doorway, they both looked at me with frightened eyes. I gave them a soft soothing smile and walked to them. They parted and made room for me to sit in between them. I lifted Leeya onto my left knee and motioned Priya to sit on my right. Once they were seated, I pulled them both into a firm embrace. They laid their heads on my shoulders and Priya cried out, “Oh, Sean, please don’t die, we’d be lost without you!”

With a sigh I kissed both their foreheads and whispered, “I’m not gonna die. We are still a family with years of love to give each other and besides, we have children to raise someday, right?”

Priya looked at me with pleading eyes and said, “Sean, give me a baby. I don’t want to wait anymore; I want a child with you now.”

I looked at her, understanding why she asked this of me and said, “Priya, we have many years ahead of us for that. If you had a child now, making your dreams come true would be unnecessarily difficult. Now is not the time for children. It’s now the time for healing and looking towards the future with hope.”

As I held my child brides in my arms, their heads on my shoulders, they seemed soothed and quieted by the sound of my voice. I went on to share with them the lessons my mother had just passed on to me. I tried to comfort them as best as I understood my mother’s words, by saying that the pain we feel today God will replace with equal joy when the time is right. Our lives will forever be changed by what Emmy had given us in our short time together and for us to take what she’d given us and build on that love with our family.

I told them there’s a time for everything and when our grieving is over and we can smile again, our blessings will come. Our duty as a family is now to love each other every day with all our hearts. If we do this, our love will be multiplied, according to the Koran, seven fold. Now is the time for sadness because Emmy’s no longer with us, but we should feel joy that she is now in Heaven with the Almighty and her parents. She’s now with her family again.

“But how can I make my heart stop hurting?” Leeya asked.

“Whenever you’re heart hurts you just ask for a hug and a kiss from Priya and me,” I replied softly.

I lovingly tweaked her nose and said, “Remember when you lost your Mommy and you were sad for a while?”

With head on my shoulder, Leeya silently nodded and replied “Uh huh.”

“Well,” I continued, “It hurt for a while but there came a day when our love made you happy again, didn’t it?”

Lifting her head to look at me she replied, “Oh, I see… I think. If I didn’t think about how much I loved you and wanted to be with you and Priya, I would have always been sad, right?”

“Exactly,” I replied with a smile. “We need to turn to each other and love each other to get better.”

I looked at Priya and then Leeya and said, “I love both of you with all my heart. I’ll never stop loving you and I’ll never leave you. Come to me with your sorrow and I’ll try my best to take away your fears and pain.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. I told the girls, “That must be your parents, Priya, let’s go let them in.”

Priya opened the door and fell into her mother’s arms. Adib and I got the two into the living room and guided them to the sofa. Leeya climbed in between them for a group hug and comfort. Adib and I gave each other a familial hug and he expressed his condolences and sorrow.

Mom must have heard them come in because she appeared at the doorway a few minutes later. She looked composed but her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

Sarah was very helpful in helping to calm Priya and Leeya. She showed the compassion and strength of a true doctor. Once everyone was calm enough to talk, we sat and talked of things ahead.

Adib had said that because Emmy was betrothed to me, and she was a believer of the Book, she could be buried with us as a family. I told him I’d call the Imam and verify that.

He got the phone book and looked up the number to a very nice, Muslim cemetery for me to look into tomorrow. They seemed fine with the fact that Emmy would have a Christian burial and said that they’d be in attendance.

I asked Sarah, “How could this happen?”

She replied, “New Delhi, like all of India’s big cities has an immense population, poor sanitation with very little of the population getting proper medical care.”

I was surprised to find out that there are about 500 cases on meningitis every year just in New Delhi alone. She went on to say that the vaccine for meningitis can be risky and that they only give it to people in direct contact with the sick such as medical personnel.

I asked Salima if anyone had any more news on Faatina. Salima said she called the hospital and the nurse allowed her to talk with Alpa for a few minutes at the nurse’s station. Faatina’s condition is still the same: critical but stable. Salima went on to say that Faatina’s brain swelling receded some, her fever had broke but she was still moving in and out of sleep while she fought off the disease.

We then moved on to other polite conversation, trying to keep from dwelling on the tragedy for another thirty minutes or so and we decided that we should call it a night. After comforting hugs and kisses, we said our salaams and our driver took them home.

As soon as the Haaseem’s were gone, we decided that we all needed some much need sleep. I’d been up for almost forty hours and was ready to collapse. Mom went to her room to mourn while we three went to our bedroom and said evening prayers.

Tonight was Wednesday. It would have been Emmy’s night. We got undressed silently and climbed in to bed together. I enfolded my wives, one in each arm and held them as we comforted each other to sleep.

I lay there for quite a while and listened as Priya and Leeya would intermittently cry and doze off again. I said a prayer to Emmy looking down on us and told her she’d always have that place in my heart. I thanked God Almighty for my wives and for my very special mother.

Being exhausted, I cannot tell what time I fell asleep, but with God’s graciousness, I did.