Helena…she was a precious, selfless, 10-year-old girl that we cared for on our palliative care program. Horrifically, a rare metastatic bladder cancer ravaged her little body and took her life this past week. Last month my colleague, Cachucha purchased a variety of food for her as she had asked to have a “piknik” with her family and friends, such a generous last request.

She could have asked us for anything…to ride to town, to have some money for herself, to be healed. But her biggest desire was to share a meal with her family and friends. She could no longer walk on her own but she could sit out on the mat in the warmth of the sun and enjoy a few bites of savory pasta and rice. For most of her life she grew up separated from her parents and was raised by her grandmother.

It is common here in Mozambique for a granddaughter to help her aging grandmother, but during the last few months of her life, she moved into her parent’s small home. She was attended to by her father and grandmother while her mother cared for her occasionally, remaining emotionally distant as she remained present for her 1-year-old daughter. Helena always had a peace about her, around her, and in her when we visited.

Her pain was managed, and she did not seem bothered by the colostomy site her parents helped to clean several times a day. She was frail, weak, and wasting away, but she always exuded joy and assurance during our visits. She shared about her dream of her little sister visiting as she had been gone to town for a few days to visit her aunt. Always dreaming and thinking of others, she would call Cachucha during the week to check on him and ask when he was visiting again. She was a good friend.

I went to visit her family this past week to give my condolences and simply be present with them in their grief. Her father shared Helena’s last moments with me. He said she was without pain and peaceful as she reached out and asked him to pick her up in his arms. He gently picked up what was left of her failing body, and she took her last breaths. She knew…she knew all along even as we prayed for her healing and shared the protection and love of Jesus with her. 

She knew and carried peace, a tangible peace that we fail most days to recognize for ourselves, a peace that would make most jealous. During the last days of her journey, she was generous with others, serving the ones she loved in her last requests, and I saw Jesus. Jesus in Helena. A little girl who gave with purpose, who broke bread with her community although she knew her life would end. Helena’s earthly father took her into his arms upon her request, and she then ascended into heaven with the Father.

“I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”

-John 20:17