Death of a Nun

 As I wrote, though the community crowned Sister Assunta as a saint.

I was not as inclined.

She was very strong in her opinion.

She was Eurasian, fair skin, with big enormous eyes.

She had breast cancer twelve years ago.

And it had recurred.

Her recurring cancer cast a pall of sadness over the monastery.

Recreations became gloomy and serious.

For me, who had just entered and lived for recreations,

It was not easy.

I complained to Mother Therese,

Citing the case of the son of my mother’s friend.

He was dying of eye cancer.

And made sure his household stayed happy by keeping up a bright spirit.

And here I was in a monastery. 

With a holy nun who was afraid of death.

And we could not be happy because she was sad and dying.

Sister Assunta was very afraid of death.

Every time, she thought she was going to die,

She would gripped Mother Therese’s arm and would not let go of her grip.

Yet when she died, it was indeed a holy death.

Mother Therese and I were with her when she died.

She was very sick, laying on the bed, eyes closed.

When suddenly she sat up.

Her eyes were fixed on the upper right corner.

As she looked fixedly at it,

Her eyes became bigger and bigger with awe.

Her face shone until there was not a wrinkle on her sixty year face.

Her eyes registered the awe, as her face became more and more radiant.

Then she made a grimace with her face, bent her head and was gone.

Whatever she saw at the upper right corner had to be something wonderful.

I could only imagine she saw Jesus, or Mary and heaven.

Whatever it was, it was a sight to behold.