Marie was returning to Maine. Her mother — my patient — had died and she needed to make arrangements for the funeral, take care of financial matters and taxes, and contact family and friends. Since she was the only living child, all responsibility would fall upon her. Who would help her? Who would care?

Marie left the key to the Florida condo in the garage. At the airport she dropped the rental agreement into a box at Hertz and walked away without talking with an attendant. Check-in had been accomplished online. She did not have to talk with any agent at the Delta ticket counter. Gate information was on the large monitors overhead.

There were few people in the gate area for her 7 a.m. flight. Marie was feeling alone.

When Marie arrived in Atlanta, the hub airport was mobbed with people rushing to one gate or another. She began her trek weaving between passengers wheeling over-sized carry-ons, from Terminal A to Terminal C to reach her connecting flight to Portland — Portland flights are always at the last gate of a terminal!

As Marie passed Gate 12 of Terminal A, she found most passengers staring out the expansive windows. Unlike the cacophony of noise in the corridor, there was a surreal hush at Gate 12. Two teens in the gate area started to speak but were “shushed” by a third. Though the gate agents were calling out “boarding for zones 1, 2 and 3,” the passengers were not moving. The agents finally gave up and stepped toward the windows themselves.

Curious, Marie stopped. She found several women crossing themselves. One mother removed her son’s Atlanta Braves cap. Many men had their hands over their hearts and others were saluting. What was going on?

Marie walked over to the windows to discover everyone’s rapt attention was upon a flag-draped coffin inching down the cargo-hold ramp of the plane at the adjoining gate. On either side of the coffin were three Marines at attention. At the bottom of the ramp was an honor guard carrying American and Marine flags, a man in a black suit clutching a Bible, and a middle-aged couple holding on to each other.

When the coffin reached the bottom of the ramp, the soldiers on either side of the coffin lifted it onto a waiting gurney. As the procession turned toward the terminal building, the middle-aged couple gazed up at those in the gate area now filled with people — strangers (including Marie) — sharing their grief.

When the funeral procession slipped from view, the din of noise began again and crowd dispersed. The mother put her son’s Braves cap back on his head. Most in the gate area hustled to the door of the awaiting plane. Others continued on their way to other gates or baggage claim.

Turning again toward Terminal C, Marie pondered what she witnessed. The somber scene reminded her of the Bible story of Martha and Mary, sisters of Lazarus, a friend of Jesus. When Lazarus of Bethany died, Martha and Mary sent word to Jesus and his disciples — and they came. Martha and Mary sent word to neighbors in their village — and they came. When Jesus arrived, “He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled” (John 11:23) and brought Lazarus back to life.

Marie realized in both Bethany two millenia ago and in Atlanta today (and elsewhere she hoped) there are people around who care, who will come to comfort those with grief.

Marie resolved she would not suffer alone if she could help it. When arriving home, she would share her grief with a simple, “My mother just passed away,” in phone calls and face-to-face interactions as she dealt with her mother’s funeral and other personal issues.

Marie was encouraged by how caring people were when made aware of her ordeal, not merely those at the funeral home and church as expected, family, neighbors and friends, but also at Social Security and insurance companies.

Each person whom she contacted responded to Marie with genuine sympathy and willingness to help. Marie’s grief was assuaged by the kindness she experienced.

We do not have to bear our sorrows alone. As Jesus promised in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).

Others who are willing to be involved are out there, but need to see or hear what is going on before they can respond.

Dr. Delvyn C. Case Jr. is a hematologist/oncologist, writer and playwright and consultant to the Department of Spiritual Care at Maine Medical Center in Portland.

 

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