Joi Gin My Friend - Joi Gin

It is 5:00 AM now. For the past hour and a half I have been sitting with a family in Palliative care. Their mom, Doris, will likely slip away today. It is hard to let someone so precious go. Doris is in her 83rd year and has lived a full life raising her family and helping her husband in their business.

There were six of the family with Doris this morning. I was privileged to be asked to join them as the On-Call Chaplain.

As we talked together I was prompted to share a personal story about my early days. It seemed to fit so well.

A long time ago when I was a young boy, we lived in southern Saskatchewan. The memory came back this morning as I listened to the family.

We lived in two different towns in those early years. The first one that I remember was Lang and the next one was Milestone. Both towns are about 45 and 35 minutes south of Regina. But back then it took longer as the cars were not as fast.

The vivid memories come back often. One that was so sharp this AM was of my Grandma Lenore Lincoln.

Lenore lived with her four kids. Actually she lived between her four kids as she travelled back and forth across the prairie from Oak Lake, Manitoba; Southern Saskatchewan; Central Alberta and the odd time British Columbia. That’s where her kids lived…and she would travel to visit them…and stay a while.

I remember dad and mom telling us that Grandma was coming to visit. She was coming by train. Oh wow… that was the best time. Grandma was coming again.

Dad and mom were always busy being dad and mom. Grandma was different – she played games with you. She told you stories that no one else ever knew about. I am sure that my mom and dad knew the stories too, but they didn’t have time to tell you.

One of my favourite Black and White photos is of me and Grandma playing Dominoes at the kitchen table. I can still hear the sound of the rattling Dominoes as Grandma stirred the ‘bone pile’.

The Station…
When the day arrived for Grandma to come in, we all headed to the train station to wait.

The platform of the train station was made of wood. The train track ties, the wooden beams below the tracks, smelled of creosol, a preservative for wood.

“Watch for the train.” was mom’s encouragement, “Who can see the train first?” We strained our eyes looking at the flat horizon and the possibilities of a black dot on the horizon. Remember it is super flat in Saskatchewan. This is the prairie of Canada and you can see ‘Forever’ – it is just at the edge of the horizon.

There it came. The very large and noisy steam locomotive, pulling steadily on its gaggle of cars behind it, came along the thin line from ‘Forever’. Very small at first but growing larger and larger as it came closer and closer. Grandma was coming – and our excitement grew by the minute.

I can’t remember the length of time she stayed with us. It was long enough to have fun, hear stories and be with her. After perhaps a week or more, it was time for her to head to her next stop. Some of the other grandkids would see her next – it was their turn to have Grandma. We shared her.

The day that she would leave I knew. She was dressed in her better Sunday dress with her hat on. The hats usually had a small veil that came down over her forehead. Her small suitcase was packed and off we would go in the old car.

There at the familiar train station was the same wooden platform, same smell of creosol, and that same ‘going somewhere feeling’.

Replacing the joy we had felt a week or so ago was a sad feeling. Grandma was leaving. The Dominoes were put away. The house was quiet – no more stories and chatter that Grandma gave so much.

As we watched the horizon again for the train it was different now. The sadness must have been there on our faces. Grandma said, “I will be back again in a little while. We will play some more games then. You can practice until I get here again. Don’t be sad I will see you again.”

We watched Grandma get on the steps and climb into the train. Just before disappearing into the coach she would turn and say, “I will see you again…!” We waved and she was gone.

Months went by and she would come back again. We did see her again and again. She always kept her promises.

This morning…
This vivid story came back this morning early as we sat around Doris’ bed at the hospital. Doris’ pending death is not a final goodbye, we will see her again.

The mood in the room changed as they started sharing stories with each other about Grandma and her life with them. It was one of the richest experiences that I have had for a long time.

Memories…
A while ago now, I had the wonderful opportunity to live in Hong Kong with about 6 Million Chinese friends. While there we studied Cantonese and tried hard to keep and use what we studied.

The Cantonese people do not have a word for ‘Goodbye’. Their closest farewell is ‘Joi Gin’ – which interpreted means ‘again see’ – or ‘see you again’. There are no ‘Goodbyes’ in China – only ‘see you again’.

Joi Gin Doris, Joi Gin…

~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~