Easter Sunday, 31st March 1991

After today, 31st March 2024,  Easter Sunday will not fall again on 31st March for another 62 years, in 2086.  So today is the last time that I will celebrate Easter Sunday on the same date that Ali was received into the Catholic Church 33 years ago in 1991, on 31st March. 

I have written about that occasion of 31st March 1991 before: here and here.   There had been such obstacles for Ali that being received into the Church had seemed to be an impossibility.  Then the obstacles suddenly lifted, and thanks to Fr John McGrath,  Ali was received into the Catholic Church at  the Church of St John Payne, Greenstead, Colchester.

Ten years on...

Ali in 1995 - radiating joy even when in pain and suffering.

By now, ten years after Ali's death, I really should have been able to produce a decent introduction to her extraordinary life.  If I have any excuse - and I'm not sure that I truly do - it would be that Ali's life was so complex that it isn't easy to write about it.  

I have written previously about the final hours of Ali's life and how she willingly suffered with much joy.  She died as she lived.  Years earlier, in 1997,  Ali had written that she wanted "to suffer until I can be a great martyr for Jesus and the Church."   Ali was not killed for her faith, but was a heroic martyr - a witness - to it.  She accepted suffering willingly, knowing that it could be united to the sufferings of Jesus, and that it therefore contributed to the salvation of souls, and the good of many people.  Her acceptance of suffering was an expression of love for God and other human beings. 

Ali had a relationship with Jesus, Mary and the saints that was entirely different to mine and most  Catholics.   I don't think she realised that she had an exceptional relationship with them.  She would casually tell me what Jesus or Mary or a saint had 'said' to her - as though it would be an ordinary experience of Catholics to see and hear them - and in order to have an accurate account of what Ali told  me I would often ask her to write it down for me.  As a result I have a number of letters from Ali, all of which I kept, which would begin simply with "Dear Colin" and be signed off "Love from Ali and Pooh xxx," with some remarkable content in between. 

Few people would write a letter like the one, reproduced below, that Ali wrote in June 1997.  It is the sort of letter that only a saint would or could write.  It is additionally remarkable in that it was written after a particularly difficult and distressing six months for Ali in 1997.  The local parish church, which she had attended for the previous six years since becoming a Catholic at Easter 1991, became a very inhospitable place for her and she felt marginalised if not rejected by God and the Church.  The letter was written at a rare moment during that period when light illumined the darkness Ali was experiencing.  

Many people are broken by suffering. Many cling on to faith and hope as though by their fingertips.   Many are in darkness and unhappy.  I think Ali's life has much to say to these people, because she experienced suffering, brokeness, darkness and unhappiness in the extreme.  It may be ten years since her death, but I think her main achievements for others are yet to come.

Dear Colin,

After confession today I talked to Jesus for a long time. I thanked Him for the pain because it has brought me closer to him.  I said any suffering is worth it, as long as He is at the end of it.  I thought the same about purgatory. *

I asked Jesus if the souls in purgatory can see him as clearly as we do here, or more clearly or less. I prayed it not be less, for that would be terrible suffering. His answer was to ask me to offer my pain today (or when it's next bad) for the souls in purgatory.  But I don't know a prayer for that which is why I asked you.  But I think maybe just offering it is enough.

I said to Jesus something I've been saying for a few days now (I've been praying each morning, offering in advance the day's suffering to him).  I said it's not enough pain, because there is so very much to use it for and so little pain.  I asked him for more.  In fact, the only thing that would satisfy me now is to suffer as much as He did on the cross.

How I would love to be a martyr and die in pain. That would be the greatest gift I could have...

*I meant to say before that I thought six years of the pain to get close to Jesus is so merciful and so little [Ali was writing in 1997, and the particularly acute pain she experienced started in early 1991.]  It made me think even purgatory would be little if Jesus is at the end of it.*

I want to suffer until I can be a great martyr for Jesus and the Church.  But I want no one to know this is what I want because I don't want human sympathy. I want to love Jesus so much my heart breaks open and all the love spills out for Him.  My pain is not enough to do this and that is why I asked for more.

Love from

Ali and Pooh

xxx

Saying "yes" to life

 

Saturday 25th March 2023: A talk about Ali's 'yes' to life.

The first thing I recall as having learnt from Ali was expressed in a mere seven words:  "Mary said 'yes' and saved the world."   Ali said this to me in July 1989 as we returned to England from the shrine of Lourdes in France, a momentous trip which changed both of our lives.  Though raised a Catholic I really didn't understand the role of Mary and her importance, and it was the (then) non-Catholic Ali who taught me.   Yes, Jesus is the Saviour, and he is the sole Saviour of the world.  But if it had not been for Mary's "yes" at the Annunciation, we would not have had a Saviour, and her "yes" was necessary for the salvation of the world.  Those seven words of Ali's made a profound impression on me.  I have always remembered them.

Because of Ali's willingness to say 'yes,' the date of 22nd March, nearly 40 years ago,  became one of special significance for her.  It was a day that Ali always remembered privately as I do today.  There are other things about Ali that were private during her lifetime that she always expected me to make known after her death.    I'll be talking a little about the significance of 22nd March at a talk at St Mary's Church, Helston in Cornwall this coming Saturday 25th March.  It is a privilege to be able to talk about Ali's "yes"  on Saturday's great feast of the Annunciation, when Mary's "yes" is celebrated.

Ali's anniversary and an Indian connection

Ali, pictured with Koteswari in January 2006,
had great love for 'her' children in India.

The ninth anniversary of Ali's death falls, as it does each year, on the feast of the great "Apostle of the Indies," St Francis Xavier.  He died 461 years before Ali, on 3rd December 1552, and the shrine with his incorrupt body is in Goa, India.  

I had hoped to have an Introduction to Ali ready for publication by this ninth anniversary of Ali's passing to eternal life, and I regret that it has still not emerged.  Please God, it will be published before next year's tenth anniversary so that others will become aware of Ali's extraordinary life.  Others will then be able to consider whether Ali, who had a great love for India and its "poorest of the poor" people, might be regarded as exceptional a saint as St Francis Xavier.  

St Francis Xavier was canonised 70 years after his death, in 1622, and today he is known and loved by millions in India and around the world. It is my conviction that Ali is similarly destined to be known and loved by millions, and I think that, just as she was greatly loved by "her" children in India, especially those in Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu, countless numbers of people - in India and throughout the world - will come to know and love her. 

Ali, happy to be with her children in India, in January 2003

A remembrance

A birthday in Sri Lanka

Ali with birthday cards in Colombo, Sri Lanka 8 January 1992

30 years ago Ali celebrated her birthday in Colombo, Sri Lanka - on her last full day there before returning home to England.  

During the past three weeks I have been recalling the trip Ali and I made with our good friend, Ray McGuinness, to India, where we stayed in the cities then known as Calcutta and Madras, before arriving on New Year's Day in Sri Lanka where we visited a few places in the south.  I had hoped to write about aspects of the trip during recent weeks, but computer/scanning problems prevented this.  I have at least been able to scan a couple of photos for now.

The highlight of the trip was meeting Sriyanee, whom Ali had been sponsoring for a few years and was now to meet for the first time.  Ali had learnt Sinhala so that she could converse with and write to Sriyanee.  I hope to write more about Ali's meeting with Sriyanee and about the trip another time.

Ali with Sriyanee 6 January 1992

The 8th vigil

The vigil of 2 Dec 2021

As the weeks of November pass each year, with the nights starting earlier and getting much colder, my thoughts return to those November weeks of 2013. While the anniversary of Ali's passing to eternal life falls on 3 December,  it is the weeks and days before that date that I remember the most, and in particular that last night of 2-3 December. 

During those last days Ali's bedroom was illuminated by candles, rather than the harsher glare of electric light.  And each year since then, on the night of 2-3 December, I keep a candlelight vigil in Ali's bedroom.  It is a time for memories, reflection and prayer.

I'm conscious that this blog has said very little about Ali, even though it is now eight years since she died.  Please God, by this time next year, an introduction to Ali, describing what was so extraordinary about her will have been published.  For now, I will just reproduce what I said about Ali's heroic death in a presentation I gave the year after she died.  

Ali died at home on the morning of Tuesday 3 December.  She lost her swallow reflex on the Sunday night.  So from then, she could no longer take even small drops of liquid to drink; or liquid morphine for pain.  She would generally wake up for short periods, with pain coming soon after she was awake.  

About 8pm on the Monday night, after being awake for an hour or so, the pain was so extreme she wanted me to call the out-of-hours doctor.  It was known that if she called the out-of-hours service, Ali would receive an injection of diamorphine which she duly received and it zonked her out in seconds.  Knowing that she hadn’t had liquids for nearly 24 hours, and expecting that the diamorphine would last some time, it seemed to me that Ali might die without waking up again.

I was surprised, then, when Ali woke up at 1am.   She could say little – a few words at a time.  Often she would respond just 'yes' or 'no' to my questions.   It was soon clear that she was in pain. 

-  Do you have pain? "Yes."  -  Is it very bad?  "Yes." - Do you want me to call the doctor to give you something?  "No."   I frequently asked her if she wanted me to call the doctor to help with the pain. She always said "no".  I would ask:  - Are you happy?  She always said, and you could read it in her eyes: "Yes!" 

Ali once said that our life in the world is like that of an unborn child.   In a way ,we are unborn.  The unborn child knows only the womb.  He or she doesn’t know the marvellous world that lies beyond the womb. The suffering of his mother accompanies the child into the world – and it is traumatic for the child.  The world, Ali said, is like a mother’s womb.  It is a preparation for what lies beyond.  What lies beyond is so much beyond our imagination, just as the world is beyond the imagination of a child in the womb.  Just as suffering accompanies our entrance into the world, so it is fitting that it accompanies our exit from the world.  We prepare for what lies beyond.

I am convinced that Ali didn’t ask me to call the out-of-hours doctor again, because she knew that if she received another injection of diamorphine she would be zonked out for the rest of her journey into the next world.  She didn’t want that.   She wasn’t clinging on to life, afraid to let go – the sentence she said more than any other in her last weeks and days  was “I want to go home.”  She was anticipating her eternal destiny – but she knew she wanted to take with her as much as she could.  And what can we take with us?  Not material goods – but  the treasures of our good actions, our prayers, our suffering,  our love.

How precious were those last hours of Ali's life!  The good deed she performed then, contributing to the treasures she took with her, was a final lesson to me - and, through me, to you and others - how to die with real dignity and courage.  She prayed - expressing sorrow for the things she got wrong in life - and offered up her suffering to God, in loving gratitude for the life she had been given, and for  all His love and mercies. 

Ali amassed all the treasures she could of good deeds, prayers, suffering and love - while she had the opportunity to do so.  And for some silly reason she loved me and wanted to spend as much time as she could with me. 

 So she didn’t want me to call the doctor to zonk her out. She wanted to be sat upright in the bed – which ensured that she would live longer – and for me to hold her.  I encouraged her as best I could. We prayed.  Her body gradually wound down in a way I had never experienced before and eventually she lost all ability to communicate.. I believe though that she remained conscious, and could hear the ongoing encouragement and prayers, until the end.   Ali died at 8:40 in the morning.

She could have died easily and painlessly, but chose a far happier death of suffering with great love.

As I said [earlier in the talk], I’m a wimp.  But I hope I can learn from Ali to be willing to suffer lovingly during life and especially at the end of my life.

Ali was small - four foot something and getting smaller as her spine collapsed. But she walked head and shoulders above us all.