Saying Goodbye

Saying goodbye to Ngo has probably been the hardest thing we've experienced in Vietnam. To spend time laughing with a child one day and dressing his limp body the next is agonizing. Seeing the pain of the other children is almost as difficult. We held them as they called out to their friend at the hospital and cried with them at his funeral days later. Enoch and I can't help Ngo now and we can't take away the grief of his friends, but we can love and support them along the way.  We are doing our best.

On the morning of the funeral, Tony, Duc, Enoch and I left Da Nang at 3:00 a.m. We took a van into the mountains and drove until the road ended at a river. Our group crossed in a small rowboat and then hiked into the hills toward Ngo's village.

The services had begun by the time we had arrived. Some of the orphanage children were playing a gong and a large drum, both part of Buddhist funeral rituals. Others were offering incense. Many of the children looked on solemnly, but others were in tears; a few sobbed.

After a time, a man dressed as Buddha danced and sang. Then, several young men lifted the coffin onto bamboo poles and carried the body up the hill toward the gravesite. Mourners followed with incense, dropping offerings of money along the way. Ngo was buried along with the bamboo mat he slept on and many of his personal belongings. The rest was to be burned later.

The service concluded with breakfast (noodles...and vodka for most of the Vietnamese adults), then a hike back to the river.

Since the funeral, we have tried to be around more often. We have spent time at the orphanage and in the hospital with Nguyen, the other boy involved in the accident. When we first visited Nguyen, he didn't appear to be in physical pain but the pain of his heart was all too evident. When we entered the room, Nguyen couldn't look us in the eye. During our conversation, he shared that he felt guilty to be living. On the night of the accident, Nguyen wore a helmet; Ngo did not. We assured him that he was alive for a reason and that the accident was no one's fault. Enoch had a very specific word for Nguyen, and gave him his wrist band as a reminder.

When we visited the hospital several days later, Nguyen looked directly at us and smiled broadly. The change in him is clear--Nguyen is being healed physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

About a week after the accident, Enoch and I had the opportunity to talk with all of the children about loss and grief. We assured them that everyone expresses loss differently--some people are angry, some cry a lot, some feel a mixture of emotions and some don't seem to feel anything at all. We told them that feeling any or all of those emotions was normal. We said it would be good to talk about the way they feel, and we made ourselves available.

Then we passed out a picture of Ngo with his head thrown back in a laugh. The conversation turned to Ngo. We talked about how he was always joking, always trying to entertain his friends. Ngo wanted to make other people happy. Each child then had the opportunity to share happy memories of Ngo. They were given foam leaves and flowers to hang on a tree. As each hung their flower, they reminisced aloud. There were some laughs and some tears. The evening concluded with a discussion about how we can bring joy to others' lives the way Ngo brought joy to ours. After our time was over, the children came up and gave us big hugs.

We see changes in the children every day. They continue to wear mourning clothes and to set out a place for Ngo at meals, but they are smiling and laughing more easily. The sorrow may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning.