As the chaplain, I enter the intensive care unit. The dimly lit room felt as cold as ice, though the thermostat read 70 degrees. She was dying. Could be moments, could be hours. No one knows how much longer she has left. Only God ultimately knows. He offers me a chair by his side and invites me to sit down. He tells me that this unconscious woman is his fiancé. They have two young children together, but all of his other family and friends are back in Africa. He is alone.
Silence, except for the beeping of the monitors.
I stare at her, at her beautiful, but expressionless face. He stares at her, with a look of fear in his eyes.
I wonder what kind of woman she was. What kind of mother, wife, daughter and friend she was. I wonder of the life she is leaving behind, only after 34 years. After a few moments of silence, I turn to him and ask him what he loves most about her. He answers that she was such a good person and was the kind of woman who would do anything for anyone.
Silence, as we both return our gazes upon her.
How will he cope without her? How will his children grow up without their mother? I manage to feel his deep pain as much as I could, as we sit side by side in silence.
Should I say something? Should I not? Does he want me to speak to distract him? Does he want re-assurance? Does he want words of comfort? Words of sympathy? Words of prayer? The silence is awkward. It is so painfully hard to refrain and say nothing. I purposely hold back. I keep quiet. I dont think my words are important now. I need to feel comfortable with this uncomfortable silence. And I think to myself—What am I doing? Is my presence being of any help here? I just sit in silence.
Just at that moment, he turns his head and stares at me with tear-filled eyes. He takes my hand and squeezes it. He begs me not to leave. He cries for a brief moment. He thanks me profusely for being there with him. I nod my head, as I sit there in silence with him.
He reaffirmed for me what I know in many cases to be true. Many people tend to avoid situations that make them feel uncomfortable; whether it be paying a shiva call, visiting a friend who is ill, etc.. People “don’t know what to say” and find it easier to avoid the whole situation. We all need to realize that sometimes, there are no words to say. In fact, words should not be spoken. The inherent comfort that is truly appreciated often by others is to be alongside someone else….in silence.
Debby Pfeiffer is a chaplain in the process of completing Board certification. She resides in Bergenfield, NJ, with her husband and five children.
By Debby Pfeiffer
