Tarun

Tarun (not his real name of course) is dying.

And his older sister and widowed mother want it to happen soon. And in a hospital.

"Why don't you take him to a hospital and give him and injection to finish him off" they told our JSK staff the other day.

The family is sick to death. Tired. In a cold rage.

Tarun is a young man. He has lost control over his body below the waist. He is incontinent and bed-ridden.

A man comes each day to clean Tarun. He charges Rs. 100 for the service.

Tarun has bed sores. Recently they have increased. He has stopped eating for all intents and purposes.

Our JSK staff have been trying to work with Tarun's mother and sister. Trying to encourage them to care for him more. There in that tiny room that they all share.

The big fear that his mother and sister express is what to do after he dies.

They want him to be taken to a hospital and to die there - our staff informed us recently - because they believe that after death a post-mortem will be done - and the body will be brought back 'packed up'.

What Tarun's mother and sister do not want others to see is that Tarun had bed-sores. They would see that when the body is being washed and prepared for the last rites. 'They will think we did not take care of him' was what they told our JSK staff.

This is crazy stuff. Mind-bogglingly hard to deal with. Where do you even begin? We sometimes don't know what to do. How do you respond to statements like this - which are so far removed from what a loving family is meant to be...

We don't have a happy ending to this story. Tarun continues to die. Slowly. HIV is a hard master for hard hearts.

It doesn't have to be.

Over the 150 plus people who we have known with HIV who have died over the last 8 odd years - many have died with peace. A good death is something precious.

Sheba told me today about a pastor who distributed cake in church after his father died. To celebrate his dear father's entry to heaven. Instead of mourning - there is joy among the tears of seperation.

But for Tarun, on this night, we do not have that ray of hope.

Our staff go every other day to meet Tarun. To spend some time touching him and talking to him. To try and reach out to this family members and encourage them to love their son. They pray with Tarun and assure him of their love. They shift him in bed and dress and powder his bed-sores. Its no wonder that this work takes its toll on us.

No easy solutions. No magic buttons we can press to make everything happy-happy.

But all the while the over-whelming sense that our Lord wants us to keep loving as much as possible. To keep visiting and seeking to help the family to the extent the want to accept it. To keep our hands open and our hearts humble. To pray. And pray. And pray.