A tale of two days.

May 20, 2010. I received a phone call at 0600 am, my heart dropped before I heard the words, somehow I already knew-- Michael was dead. 

Michael was an amazing boy. I had been spending a lot of time with him over the last few months as he struggled with complications of liver disease. He was 18. All he wanted to do was finish school, learn agriculture and help his country. Humble dreams. Instead he spent his last weeks in a horrible hospital room that he shared with as many as six other extremely ill boys. Crying, stench, depression all around. Even though he was weak and tired, Michael remained strong within. He wasn't scared. He encouraged me when I couldn't find the words to encourage him. 

The day before Michael died was my birthday. He had fallen into a coma, he desperately needed a blood transfusion. There are no blood banks in Liberia, if you need blood you have to provide it. We were able to find a match and start the transfusion. I left him like that to go to my birthday party. I didn't know it at the time, but, my last words to Michael were pleading with him to stay strong and fight. I may have been pleading for myself. Late that night I called to check on him, there had been no change.

I received the call in the morning. A wailing cry from his Auntie, "Michael died-o!" I rushed to the hospital, saw the empty bed, it was true. That started a surreal parade of events. There is no time to waste, things must be done-- order a casket, watch as cheap wood is nailed together haphazardly and covered with gold spray paint (Michael deserved better than this), bring the casket to the morgue, lift his body into it, nail it closed, drive to the grave site, carry the casket, lower it down. Words were shared, women wailed, I wept. It was finished. Now what do you do? It was mourning in fast forward. Somehow at the end of the day there was closure, but there was also still a huge hole in my heart.

Michael Dimhue
Died May 20, 2010

Not sure how I would handle it, I was dreading May 20th as it approached this year. I was planning to go to Michael's grave and spend some time honoring him there. I didn't know what else to do.

The day before was my birthday, I was out celebrating with friends in the evening and drank too much coffee. At 0440 am, I had only slept about an hour, when I received a text from my good friend and co-worker Matt, "We are at the hospital, this is not a drill." Matt's wife, Alvina, was in labor three weeks early. After texting back and forth for about an hour I gave up on sleep and headed to the hospital. As I made another early morning drive to the hospital, I couldn't help notice the irony. I spent the day with Matt and Alvina, didn't do much, except be there, but I knew that's where I was supposed to be.

That afternoon Alvina delivered. It was a boy! Perfect in every way. (as Avina put it, "all his parts are correct."

Kingsley Cramer
Born May 20, 2011

A few hours later, as Alvina was resting, Matt and I couldn't help notice the difference the day had made. We thought we would be remembering Michael, spending the day at a graveyard. Instead, we spent the day celebrating new life. What a difference. What a blessing. 

What a great way to honor Michael and redeem the day.