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Child Brides of India
By: C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 58: Tragedy (Mggg, rom, cons, no sex)
I was roused from my fretful slumber by Emmy's excited
chatter about her bridal fitting today. I groggily woke up
and smiled at her child-like joy and said, "Well, I guess
the controlled chaos of planning a wedding begins today, doesn't it?"
"Yup!" She exclaimed, as she laid kisses all
over my face.
She bounded off the bed and, as she scrambled for the
door,
said, "Gotta go get ready for my wedding dress, Yipppeee!"
It was going to be a joyous day for her, but I recalled
what kept me up all night and dreaded what might lie ahead
for me today. I rose from bed grumbling as I took my
morning constitution. After answering nature's call, I took
a shower and put on a suit. About fifteen minutes later the
girls filed in for morning prayers.
The girls, including Priya, were excited for Emmy and
couldn't wait to do the girlie things girls do when
preparing for a wedding. Priya saw my worried look and knew
what was bothering me. She rubbed my back, gave me a kiss
and encouraged me by saying "Don't think too much about it
until you get all the facts. Don't go off half-cocked
before you have a reason to, OK?"
Taking heed of her advice, I nodded with a smile. We
finished morning prayers and were downstairs at the table
at eight. Mom was her usual self, nursing her coffee as we
filed in to eat. Of course the topic of conversation was
Emmy's fitting. I made the obligatory contributions that
grooms are meant to make. Weddings are more for the bride
than the groom: we're just along for the ride and to pay the bills.
Mom saw my stoic look and started to say something when
I
put up my hand and said, "Priya's all ready warned me to
get the facts."
"Ok then," She relied.
I kissed my girls goodbye, wishing Emmy good luck and to
enjoy herself, then headed for the office. Prishi was her
usual efficient self and was waiting in my office for my
arrival. We talked for an hour about things until I looked
at my watch: quarter of eleven. I asked Prishi to step
outside for a few minutes and I called Adib.
The news wasn't good. Adib told me he tried to speak
with
Mahmoud last night, calling him twice, but Haseeba said he
was out and wasn't sure when he'd be back. I thanked him
for trying and poked my head out the door and told Prishi
we'd pick things up after lunch.
I called shipping and asked for Mahmoud and waited a
minute
or so for him to get to the phone. When he said "Hello?" I
told him to report to my office, immediately!
I fumed and paced until the knock on the door came. I
regained my composure, took a deep breath and said
sardonically, "Come in."
I was standing in front of my desk, leaning back against
it
and told him to take a seat. I asked him, "Do you want to
tell me what's going on at home or do I have to call
Haseeba and get her in here?"
Looking down he replied just above a whisper with eyes
averted, "No, that's not necessary."
I told him, "Look at me like a man. Talk to me like
a man.
You sat in THAT chair (pointing to it) just six months ago
and wanted me to help you win Haseeba's hand. I told you
then what her hopes and dreams were, and you promised me
that you'd help her achieve those dreams."
I sat down in the chair next to him at eye level and
continued, "Now, now that you've got a wedding ring on her
finger, you think you can play the big, bad-assed Muslim
husband and change your mind. Well guess what? I'll have
your ass out of that house that Priya and I brought for you
and her so fucking fast it'll make you head spin! Understood?"
Bracing myself to deliver the second salvo, I shook my
finger at him as I said, "I asked you repeatedly if you
could accept her and her dreams. Repeatedly you said yes. I
don't know what kind of insecure "pity me" trip you're on,
but you'd better get your head out of your ass and fast,
because I'm not gonna wait too long for you to change your
attitude!"
"Do you think she gives a rat's ass whether or not
you've
got a college education?" I began again, "For God's sakes
man, she loves you! She's not gonna leave you just because
she becomes a nurse, what the fuck's wrong with you?"
I didn't give him a chance to reply when I added,
"I wanna
know right fucking now what you're gonna do. If you aren't
man enough to help your wife achieve her dreams, then she
isn't going to be your wife for very long. I've heard a
lotta talk about you but you're my friend and I'm giving
you the benefit of the doubt, but you aren't gonna fuck
over her dreams, and THAT'S a fucking promise. If you're
not man enough for her, tell me now because the next time
we have this conversation, you'll be divorced AND without a
fucking job: got it?"
"But, but…" He stammered.
"But What!" I yelled, "What are you
afraid of? Haven't you
learned from your mistakes with Leeya? You have this
idiotic idea about being the "big, omnipotent Muslim
husband" who clings to stupid old world views, thinking
that whatever you say goes and in the process you're losing
everything that will make you happy, along with any family
and friends you still have for support. Get your head out
of your ass, man! If you help her achieve her dreams,
she'll love you even more. She told me when I approached
her about you that she wanted to marry once in her life AND
she wanted an education. You strangle her and keep her from
her dreams and I'll have someone put an ass whoppin' on you
you'll never forget, and you can take that to the bank!"
I took a couple of breaths as I saw the tears running
down
his cheeks. I collected myself and said in a calmer tone,
"Look Mahmoud, your tears mean nothing to me. The girl I
swore to protect, I gave to you to cherish. I'm giving you
one chance, and one chance only. Take the rest of the day
off, go home to your wife and fulfill your vows to her and
to me. I'm gonna keep a close eye on you and if you slip-
just once, it's over: over for you and Haseeba, and over
between you and me."
I looked him right in the eye and told him, "And
another
thing. This is the third day we've been back and not once
have you so much as called the house to speak to your
daughter. You may think that now that she's married and
lives a comfortable life she doesn't need you: or worse
yet, you don't need her. She's still your daughter and if
you really don't love her, she'll survive, but I gotta tell
you, you'd better not have any more kids because you're a
piss poor excuse for a father. This is the way it's gotta
be. I'll not have you ruin Haseeba's life like you almost
ruined Leeya's just when she sees the prize in sight, understand?"
"Yes Sean," he replied, "I understand and
you're right.
I'll make things right, just wait and see."
"OK Mahmoud," I replied, "But I ain't
gonna wait long. It's
either shit or get off the pot."
"I know," he said, "I'll make amends to
my wife and to
Leeya. I hope we'll be friends again."
"That's all I want Mahmoud, is for you to fulfill
your
responsibilities to your wife and daughter and do what
you've promised, nothing more and nothing less. With
Haseeba, if you can give her that, she'll hold your hand
and walk through hell with you together and I mean that.
Now go, be the man I always thought you to be."
"Yes Sean," he said while looking me in the
eye, "I will."
With that, he left for home and his wife.
I looked at my watch and it was almost noon. I really
wasn't in any mood to eat so I called Haseeba on her cell.
I explained what I'd said to Mahmoud and told her outright
that although I wasn't trying to run her life and force her
(if it came to that) into a divorce, I told her that she
should never give up her dreams and if she couldn't achieve
them with Mahmoud, the pain of a divorce would be far less
than the pain of a lost life filled with broken dreams.
Although sad, she agreed.
I told her that I wanted to be kept up to date on the
status of Mahmoud's attitude, as far as support and love
for her endeavors, and if he falters or fails to keep his
promises, I wanted to know immediately! She agreed to keep
me informed.
I went to the canteen anyway and picked at a salad until
one pm. I met again with Prishi after lunch until two and
we finished discussing what had happened, her decisions and
the results of things while I was gone. I felt proud of her
for doing just what I thought she could do and told her
that because of her quality of leadership and level
headedness I was promoting her to Assistance Vice President
of Operations, directly under me and answerable only to me.
Prishi was so proud her ample breasts led the way out of
the office by a good six inches. I called Priya's cell
phone to check on the girls, but got her voicemail instead,
so I left her a message. Still feeling in a funk over
Haseeba, I decided to leave early and left the office at three.
I arrived home about four and the girls noisily followed
me
by about fifteen minutes. Emmy was on cloud nine, hyper
excited about her wedding garb. She was going to tell me
what it looked like, but the girls hushed her, telling her
I'm not supposed to know until the wedding day.
Today was the first time I'd seen Monaavi since
returning
and we had a nice cordial greeting, exchanging salaams and
then sat to discuss Attiya's progress in the study. She
basically reiterated the same thing Mom had said, that
their original assessment of Attiya was too optimistic.
Monaavi told me that having the time to devote strictly
to
Attiya had given her a chance to work more closely with her
and refine her assessment. She said the she now felt, and
Mom concurred, that Attiya would probably never be able to
attend a regular school because of her limited ability to
speak and because she, like most autistic children, was
more artistic than academic.
She showed a keen talent for art and music but lacked
the
ability to adequately grasp subjects like math and reading.
Although she felt that Attiya would progress some in
vocabulary, in all probability she wouldn't speak above a
third or fourth grade level at best. In regards to other
subjects like math and reading, she would only be able to
function on about a second grade level.
I asked Mom to join the discussion and after reviewing
Monaavi's comments, Mom agreed. I asked Monaavi and Mom if
she could ever lead a somewhat normal life, grow up and
possibly get married. Did she have the intelligence to
grasp some adult concepts such as love, commitment, and
marriage or even take on some adult responsibilities such
as caring for her own needs?
Monaavi said she'd done quite a bit of research and had
her
tested, although without our knowing, but Pita agreed, and
the consensus was that Attiya showed a mild case of autism
called Asberpger's syndrome. It was, as best as could be
determined, that her IQ was about 90: roughly ten points
below the considered norm of 100.
Presently, Attiya isn't displaying any of the obsessive
behaviors associated with autism yet, but that she could
develop some later. She may be able to live a relatively
normal life, but her world would have to be very
structured. She may regress or fall behind if her world
changes or her routines are upset. If she feels safe and
loved, she may do very well and possibly even get married,
but her husband would have to be very considerate, gentle,
loving and understand that she will never be able to cope
with some adult issues like having or raising a child.
Monaavi suggested buying her an instrument such as a
piano
to tap into her artistic abilities, which we agreed to do.
On a sad note however, Monaavi said, "I'm afraid that if I
leave my position as her teacher, she'll falter or lash
out. I've prayed about this a lot and Allah has impressed
upon my heart that having one special student for all of my
career is more worthy than teaching hundred's of normal
kids who'll move on and forget my efforts. Knowing this,
would you be willing to employ me for as long as she needs me?"
Smiling at her, I replied, "Monaavi, you've given
her
something more precious than just being a teacher: you've
given her love. If it takes a lifetime, you'll never have
to worry about a job. I'll double your salary if you
continue to give her what you've lovingly provided from the beginning."
With quiet tears of joy she smiled and said graciously,
"Thank you sir, I'll continue to give her the best care I
know how to provide." With that, we said our salaams and
Monaavi left for the evening.
After Monaavi left, Priya came into the study and Mom
and I
brought her up to date on Attiya's progress. Mom made the
comment, "THAT is one hell of a woman! I feel sorry for
her, in a way, because if she continues to work with
Attiya, she'll never have a life of her own. I think she
works so well with Attiya because she's almost child-like herself."
Sitting back in her chair Mom added, "For
twenty-three,
she's awfully innocent and lacks a lot of knowledge of
adult things like marriage or love. I guess that's from
leading such a sheltered life."
I agreed and replied, "Yeah, her parents are very
protective of her and she's spent her entire life devoted to study."
Priya commented, "Sometimes Allah gives us the love
of a
child, a special child, to nurture our spirits in love.
Attiya's love is a very special gift and having that is
more than most could ever hope to have."
Mom and I replied in unison, "Amen."
Dinner was about ready so we three headed for the dining
room. The three younger girls were playing and giggling in
the kitchen, "getting under Pita's skirt" so to speak,
while she was preparing dinner. Looking at Attiya for a few
moments, the only thing I observed out of the ordinary was
her lack of eye contact with the other girls, and she was
not as quick to respond to as Leeya or Emmy.
Out of breath from playing, Emmy came up to me and
asked,
"What's wrong with 'Tiya? Why doesn't she look at us?"
I knelt down on one knee and replied, "Attiya has a
disease
called autism. She's special and you have to treat her
nicely because she's not as sharp as you and Leeya, OK?"
"OK," she replied understandably, "Wanna
hear about today?"
Smiling and with a hug I said, "Sure, we'll talk
over dinner."
Pita announced with a smile and a chuckle, "Dinner
is
ready, with no help from you three I might add."
We sat and began dinner. Emmy went on about her fitting
saying, "Oh Sean! You should see what my wedding dress
looks like…"
Priya cut her off and said, "Now, now, Emmy, you
can't tell
him anything before the wedding. It's a surprise, remember?"
"Oh yeah," she responded with a giggle,
"I forgot. Anyway
Sean, it'll be absolutely beautiful, won't it Priya?"
Priya swallowed her bite of food nodding and replied,
"Sean, it will be truly beautiful, just wait and see!"
Leeya said, "Yeah Beautiful! At least she'll have a
yellow dupatta."
All the girls shot her a dirty look and the snot said,
"Oops, saaawww-reee, forgot."
Needless to say, the rest of the dinner was devoted to
telling of Emmy's fitting and the trouble she had keeping
still for measurements due to overexcitement. After dinner,
we pitched in and helped clean up the dinner table.
After the cleaning detail was finished, while Leeya and
Emmy watched a movie in the living room, I told Mom and
Priya what had transpired today with Mahmoud. Mom was
angry: angry about what Haseeba was going through and angry
that her assessment of Mahmoud might be right. Priya was
noticeably sullen upon hearing Haseeba's situation.
I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she said, "One
of the
sad things about growing up is that you see people and all
their shortcomings. I never would have believed that Uncle
Mahmoud would treat Leeya this way and I certainly didn't
expect him to go back on his promise to Haseeba. I'll call
her tomorrow and talk to her."
After the movie was finished, I told the girls it was
time
for evening prayers. During prayers, Priya and I prayed
fervently for Haseeba and Mahmoud and for God to open
Mahmoud's eyes and reclaim his life. With prayers finished,
I told the girls that we'd had enough excitement for one
day and that we should turn in early.
When Leeya and Emmy left for bed, Priya and I had a nice
loving shower together and snuggled into bed. Because
Haseeba was on both our minds, neither of us was in any
mood for sexual play. We just cuddled, thanked God for the
blessings of a happy and loving family and Emmy's soon to
be inclusion in that family.
The next morning at prayers, I told Emmy, "You may
be
getting married and will become a wife, but you still have
to go to school. Today, we'll go to school and get you registered,
OK?"
"OK," she said, "What grade will I be in
here in India?"
"Third," I replied, "Just like back in
the States."
We completed prayers and went downstairs to eat. Attiya
seemed happy to again be having breakfast with her sister
and they were kinda giggly during breakfast but Emmy seemed
unusually quiet.
Attiya again surprised us when she told Leeya "Me
love you."
Leeya seemed to understand her well and knew the
significance of her statement. She smiled softly at her and
replied, "I love you too, sister."
After eating I collected Emmy's school records, put them
in
my briefcase and after kisses goodbye, Emmy and I left for
her new school. In the car on the way to school, Emmy was
quiet and seemed lethargic. I asked her if she was all
right but she said she just didn't feel well. I shrugged it
off as possibly being the change in diet, lingering jet lag
and maybe some anxiety over moving to a new country and
getting married: a lot for an eight year-old to cope with all at once.
Upon arriving at school, we had to wait about thirty
minutes before we were admitted to the headmaster's office
to register her. After copies were made of her school
records, getting her registered and receiving her schedule,
book list, uniform requirements and all, we'd been there an
hour and a half.
As we were walking out of school, I asked her if she
wanted
to stop and have lunch. She shook her head no and replied,
"No, I don't feel too good, let's go home."
Putting me arm around her and giving her a hug, she felt
a
little warm and I remarked, "You feel kinda warm, I wonder
if you're catching a bug or something."
She shrugged and said, "Maybe, I don't know."
On the way home, Emmy broke out in a sweat and said with
some urgency, "Sean, I'm gonna be sick."
I had the driver pull over immediately and she opened
the
car door and vomited violently. She dry heaved for a minute
or two and she had an ashen look about her. I told our
driver to get us home as quickly as he could. Emmy threw up
again, but with an empty stomach from vomiting before, only
expelled stomach bile.
Once home, I carried her inside and up to bed. Mom took
her
temperature and found it was 101.4 degrees Fahrenheit: high
but not dangerously so. Priya and I sat with her for about
an hour and she started complaining of a headache. We gave
her some Acetaminophen for the headache and fever and she
seemed to quiet down some. She fell off to sleep so we left
her to rest.
With everyone worried about Emmy, none of us was in any
mood to eat. About four pm, we heard Emmy crying loudly. We
rushed to her room and she, along with the bedclothes, was
soaked in sweat. She said she had a terrible headache, felt
chilled and the light from the window was bothering her.
Mom took her temperature again and it had risen to
103.1.
Mom said, "It's getting worse and her temperature is too
high: we'd better get her to the hospital."
We agreed and Mom and Priya dressed her in some sweats
and
slippers. I wanted to leave Leeya with Pita, but she'd have
none of it and threw a fit to go. I didn't want to argue
with her so I told her she could come along.
I carried Emmy to the car with everyone in tow and we
left
for the hospital. The closest hospital was thirty minutes
away and Emmy's condition seemed to be deteriorating
quickly. About twenty minutes into the ride, she complained
of a stiff neck.
When she said that, I was filled with sudden horror. In
my
junior year in college, several students had contracted
meningitis and died. I leaned over to Mom and whispered my
fears and she turned pale at the thought.
We arrived at the hospital, and like all hospitals, they
want you to wait. I asked to speak to the attending
physician and when he appeared several minutes later, I
told him what Emmy's condition was, her symptoms and what I
thought it might be. He nodded and concurred with me,
directing me to take her back for treatment immediately.
The doctor confirmed that sensitivity to light,
headache,
stiff neck and vomiting were classic symptoms of
meningitis. He ordered a spinal tap and sent the fluid off
to the lab for immediate testing. All we could do now is wait…
As we waited, we racked our brains as to how or from
whom, Emmy
may have been exposed. Suddenly Leeya blurted out, "I don't
know if this means anything but yesterday, Emmy took a
drink from an open water bottle at her fitting. I told her
never to drink from another person's cup or bottle unless
it's a family member."
"Oh my God!" Mom exclaimed and broke down
crying, She
started and then the other girls s followed suit. Emmy was
getting upset because the others were crying; so for her
sake, the girls regained their composure.
After about ten minutes, Priya was shaking her head and
began crying again. I asked her, "What is it? What's the matter?'
She replied with some fear, "Now I remember. It
didn't
register when I saw Emmy drinking from that bottle but
after she took as drink, I think my cousin Faatina took a drink also."
Leeya gasped in shock and said, "I didn't see
that."
Priya looked her and replied, "Yes, I'm sure now
that
Faatina took a drink."
Mom shook her head and cried, "Oh dear God no, she's
just a
baby!"
"How old is she?" I asked.
Priya sunk her head and whispered, "Three. She'll
turn four
in November."
"Call her mother now!" I ordered quietly,
"Get her mother
on the phone, have her bring her here and I'll pay for any
taxi or ambulance. Go out in the hallway so Emmy doesn't
hear you. Hurry!"
Priya fumbled around in her purse and said, "I
don't have
my phone with me!"
I handed her mine and said, "Here. Hurry!"
Priya stood and walked outside to make the call. After
about fifteen minutes, she returned I asked her "What took
you so long?"
Priya was silently crying and replied, "I'm so
upset, I
couldn't remember my aunt's number so I speed dialed Momma,
had her call my aunt and she called me. She said Faatina
seems fine and isn't sick but I told her to bring her here
anyway. I told her what happened yesterday and that Emmy is
very ill."
Taking a breath she continued, "Aunt Alpa lives in
a poor
neighborhood and getting a taxi will be difficult and the
same with an ambulance. I called our driver to go pick her
up. They should be here in about an hour and a half."
With a sigh I replied, "Well, it's a good sign that
she
doesn't have any symptoms yet. If she HAS been exposed,
maybe she'll get treatment before anything bad happens."
Looking over at Emmy with tear-filled eyes, I whispered,
"If this is meningitis, Emmy's symptoms don't look good. I
just hope we got her in here in time."
Emmy called me over and asked for some water. After I
held
her head and she'd taken a few sips, she asked me "I'm
really sick aren't I?"
"Yes Baby, you're very sick. None of us are gonna
leave
until we know you're better, OK?"
She licked her lips and closed her eyes and replied,
"Hold
me Sean, hold me while I rest."
I turned around and laid down next to her enfolding her
in
my arms as Emmy drifted off to sleep. I looked over and the
girls were silently weeping and holding each other.
About two hours later, Priya's Aunt Alpa arrived
cradling
little Faatina in her arms, holding her under her tiny
butt. Faatina looked normal and was wondering what everyone
was sad about. I unfolded myself from a sleeping Emmy and
called for the doctor.
I explained to him how we thought Emmy could have been
exposed and that Faatina had drank from the same water
bottle. I asked him why she didn't display any symptoms and
he replied, "This is a nasty, notorious disease and the
symptoms may take between 24 and 48 hours before the onset
of any symptoms. I'd like to conduct a spinal tap on the
little one also. I should have Emma's results back in under
an hour and if she does have meningitis, I won't even wait
for the results to treat this child here, what's her name?"
"Faatina," I replied, "Her name is
Faatina."
The doctor called for the nurse and orderly to get Faatina
situated in the bed next to Emmy and about five minutes
later, I had to help hold the tiny child as they extracted
the spinal fluid.
I checked on Emmy and she now had a rash on her face and
neck. The doctor returned with a somber look and stopped in
front of us silent for a LONG moment.
With a sigh he told us "Emma does have spinal
meningitis,
and the worst news is, that she has a very viral form
called meningococcal septicemia: it's characterized by the
rash she has on her face. This strain is so deadly because
it causes circulatory collapse. I have given her a large
injection of chloramphenicol because it is the most
effective drug of choice in treating this disease. With
Emma, all we can do now is wait and see if we got her the
drug in time. I'll begin treatment on Faatina now. I'm
sorry but that's all I can tell you at this time. All we
can do now is wait. I'll check in on her in a few hours."
Several minutes later, a nurse appeared with a syringe.
I
helped Alpa try and keep Faatina still while the nurse
administered the injection. Leeya and I sat with Faatina
for a while until she went to sleep.
I noticed that Leeya and Faatina seemed very close and I
asked Leeya about her. She said that they had played
together a lot last year and became good buddies. She said
she and Faatina were happy and being a couple of snots at
the fitting because they were cutting up, and made Mom kinda angry.
Over the next several hours, Emmy drifted in and out of
a
fretful sleep. She complained her headache was
excruciating, she couldn't move her neck and she felt
disoriented. This was evident when she'd sometimes confuse
Mom with Priya.
Everyone's nerves were shot but Leeya, at five, was well
aware of the situation and was just as worried as we were.
About eleven that evening, Faatina woke crying and
complaining of a severe headache. I called for the
attending physician and after a cursory examination he said
that Faatina was now beginning to exhibit the same symptoms
that Emmy displayed. Her case was also a wait and see
situation, and hope that the drug was administered in time.
At two in the morning, Faatina woke crying, screaming of
a
headache and she couldn't move her neck. She'd vomited
about an hour ago and when she had to throw up again, the
poor child could only wretch with dry heaves. Her symptoms
were rapidly worsening.
Everyone was exhausted: physically, mentally and
emotionally. At four thirty in the morning, Emmy was having
trouble breathing, so they inserted a breathing tube, which
seemed to help her breath. Faatina followed Emmy with a
breathing tube at five-thirty.
Seeing my future little bride lying there with wires and
tubes hooked to her as she fought for her life was a
surreal nightmare. In painful agony, I asked God "Why oh
why Lord has this happened? She's suffered so much in her
short life. She's lost both her parents, shunned and
unwanted by her family; why can't she seem to have the
happiness we ALL seek in this life?"
All of us fervently prayed for Emmy and Faatina's
recovery:
Mom to Christ and us to Allah. I prayed with as much heart
and soul as I'd never prayed before. I was soaked through
with perspiration and tears as I sobbed out my
supplications. I prayed that He take me and grant her life,
anything, but don't let her die. Even if she suffered brain
damage, I wanted her, to love and cherish her. I wanted so
badly to give her the happiness she sought in her heart for
me to provide.
Every time I felt the thought creeping into my head that
she wouldn't make it, I'd strike my bosom and pray for
forgiveness and my lack of faith in His tender mercies.
I thought back to our last night together, how I'd told
her
I was too tired to relieve her overflowing desire for me
and I hated myself for it. How could I have known that that
evening might have been the last chance I'd ever have to
return her love and desire?
I hated myself even more and blamed myself for her lying
here in this state because of my lust and her beauty. How
the dominating desire I had was to just to fuck her. I
asked God to punish me for my carnal desires and let her
live so that I may redeem myself and see the beauty within
her heart that she so desires to share with me.
After a half hour of castigating myself in self-pity, I
turned my efforts to praying for her recovery for her own
sake. She was a child, a good and loving person who only
wanted to be loved. Oh God! Let her live and find that
brass ring of happiness she so desires. I will treasure her
all the days of my life for the chance to love her and make amends!
I looked around and everyone was sleeping: Mom, Priya
and
Alpa in chairs and Leeya curled up on the floor. I thought
that I had the same feelings Christ had in the garden the
night of His arrest as He prayed while His disciples slept,
Him wondering why they weren't praying.
About seven that morning, I felt my heart being touched
and
I knew…
I knew that no matter how much I prayed, how much I
begged
or groveled before God, in the end, it would be HIS will
and not mine that would be done. I ended my vigil of prayer
with the simple request to God that I may accept what His
plan is for us and that I was turning Emmy's life over to Him.
I woke the girls at seven-thirty for morning prayers and
we
prayed for another hour. At nine, Faatina was having minor
convulsions. The doctor said that her brain was swelling
and gave her some medication. It appeared that although the
onset of the disease came later for her, her tender age
made this insidious killer ravage her quickly.
Emmy was semi comatose and disoriented. I held her in my
arms and she shivered but was hot and clammy. The doctor
came in and warned me about kissing her on the lips or
anywhere I might come in contact with a bodily fluid such
as saliva or tears, so I settled on kissing her forehead.
At about one pm, Emmy started to have difficulty
breathing
again and she labored with every breath. We all sat in an
almost catatonic state as we listened to the only sounds in
the room: the respirator pumping and the rasping with each
breath Emma's little heaving chest took.
At three-thirty, Faatina's brain swelling started to
recede
and her fever broke. The doctor said that she would, most
likely live, but they would have to wait and see if she
suffered any brain damage from the swelling. He checked on
Emmy and afterwards just silently shook he head no several times.
I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably but as silently as
I
could. There was no comfort for me and the sound of Emmy's
labored breaths were a slow, painful torture. The women in
my life tried to comfort me, but they were in as much agony as I.
At four-fifteen, Emmy opened her eyes and called for me.
I
held her in my arms, pressed her face to my cheek and said,
"I'm here love I'm not leaving you."
She rasped out in between breaths, "Sean?
Sean?"
"Yes Sweetheart," I replied through my tears.
I'm gonna go see Mommy and Daddy aren't I?" She
whispered
I gritted my teeth in sheer agony over her words as I
silently cried and replied lovingly, "Yes Baby, you are."
She nodded and replied, "Will you always love
me?"
"Forever until the end of time," I sobbed.
"Bury me in my wedding dress please? I want to go
to heaven
as your bride," she quietly cried.
Tears were running down her temples as she spoke.
"Anything you want Sweetheart, I replied softly.
I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could and held my
breath to remain composed for her sake a little while
longer.
"I want Mommy and Daddy to see my wedding
dress." She
wheezed softly.
I managed to get one sentence out before tightening back
up
to maintain composure and said, "You'll be the most
beautiful bride in all of heaven!"
"Sisters?" Emmy called out as she blindly
reached out.
"We're here sister," They both said.
"Take care of my husband will you, he needs
you," Emmy
unselfishly requested.
"Always," Priya tearfully replied as she and
Leeya held
Emmy's hand.
"Auntie?" Emmy called out.
"Yes Sweetie, I'm here," Mom said through her
tears.
"Thank you for trusting my heart and giving me
Sean," Emmy
bravely said.
Mom sobbed, "But child, it was ordained by
God."
Emmy, with closed eyes, gave a soft smile and nodded.
Emmy pressed her face to my cheek and said,
"Sean?"
"Yes Love," I whispered.
"Kiss me goodbye."
I sobbed as I pressed my lips to hers. I gently pressed
my
tongue through her lips and she gave me a tender love nip
and softly giggled.
"I love you Emmy," I cried out as I pressed
her face to my cheek.
"And I love you more…"
Having said what she needed to say, Emma gave one, last rasping
breath…
At four fifty-four pm, Emmy Marie Michaels, my eight
year-
old bride-to-be, died in my arms.
Continued in Chapter 59…
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