Everyone loved Jemima.
7 years old. Big smile. Cute glasses (which she often tried to lose).
She had Down's Syndrome. She dressed super fashionably.
She gave anyone a hug. She was well-known by our entire school community.
She had a stubborn streak. She made people light up.
Her favorite color was red.
She was in Wyatt's Kindergarten class last year.
She had a family that doted on her.
She also had Leukemia, but most of us didn't know that until last Monday.
She died early Tuesday morning and left us in grief.
In Rwanda, a death means the family hosts many visitors for days. The afternoon of that first day, the family let us know they were ready for visitors. Tents set up in the yard, and many people came and sat. It was quiet. We shared hugs and words with family members if we had them. Mostly, we sat. It reminded me of Job's friends who sat with him for 7 days without speaking.
Some friends stayed late into the night, being a presence to the family.
Wednesday night - more sitting and quiet crying
Thursday night - worship service at the home with preaching and singing.
Friday - a long day of final goodbyes...
the Wake: reflective worship songs, preaching, and viewing of the body at the family' home. This is not a wailing culture. Rwandese feel emotions deeply, but they do not often display them.
The oldest brother was holding the cross that would later mark her grave.
the Funeral: the procession began with kindergarten and 1st grade;
both grades were classmates with Jemima.
KICS Choir, stricken with sadness, sang
Dirait-on in honor of our sweet rose, who was confident in her beauty.
It was a difficult task, but prayers of many strengthened them to bless the family.
The service was beautiful.
the Burial:
The graves at the cemetery are mostly uniform.
After a short service, the casket was lowered into the ground. Family gathered around and dropped flowers into the grave. Then, friends were invited to drop flower petals as well. Once everyone had a chance to give their final farewell, the grave was covered and cement was poured in,
by the wheelbarrow-full.
It's so different than my culture, where the "dirty" work is done after the family and friends leave.
The oldest brother held that cross throughout the morning. He carried it in the funeral procession. And he held it in place while it was cemented at the grave in the late afternoon.
Today, it was his cross to bear.
I've never seen so many
people
or flowers
at a graveside service.
The rains held off as we said our final goodbyes to her earthly body.
After the burial,
the tradition is to stop at a restaurant to wash hands and drink soda.
I skipped this part, so I could go home to be with my own family.
Like all of us, my Wyatt has been through so many emotions this week. He had times of not wanting to attend anything, to deciding he was ready to be a part.
"I don't want to bury Jemima in the ground."
"Oh, son, I don't want to either."
He asked me, "Will Jemima have Down's Syndrome in heaven?"
"I don't think so."
"Good, I don't want her to be sick anymore."
"There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain,
for the old order of things has passed away."
Revelation 21:4
We love you, Jemima.
"Enter into the joy..."
Matthew 25:21
