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.

Claire Costa before she was 18

Ali with 6 year old Claire Costa in 2009

It is thanks to her Auntie Linda that Claire Costa got to know Ali.  On a trip to the United States in the 1970s Ali met and subsequently developed a close friendship with Linda Singleton who, like Ali, was born with spina bifida.  

Ali (right) with Linda (left) and her mom, Carolyn, and sister, Carol, behind.

Linda's early death in 1984 was a great loss for Ali and she was pleased to keep in touch with Linda's mom, Carolyn.   Some time after Carolyn's death in 1993 Ali very happily renewed contact with Linda's younger sister, Carol, who was to marry Christopher Costa and in due course give birth to Claire on that happy day 18 years ago today. 

In June 2009, just a few weeks after Claire's 6th birthday, Ali and I were able to spend a few days with Carol, Christopher and Claire while visiting their home town of Colorado Springs. 

Ali with Christopher and Carol Costa and six year old Claire

Carol with Ali

Ali had not seen Carol for some years and it meant much to her to see her again.  Given her relationship with Linda, Carol was like a younger sister to Ali and she looked forward to meeting Christopher and Claire, who was especially delightful. 

One day, we took a trip together to Pikes Peak, which is the highest summit of the southern Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, and a place of spectacular views.  It is usually mild weather in June, but on that day (5th June 2009) it was exceptionally cold, with more snow than is usually found in January or February,  as the media reported.  It was quite treacherous underfoot and Ali wasn't the only one to stay in the car.  But Claire and I were determined to have our photo taken at the Pikes Peak sign!

Ali, with Claire and Christopher visible, at Pikes Peak

Claire and Colin freezing at the summit (5 June 2009)

Ali was always keen to hear how Claire was getting on and would have been pleased to see the fine young woman she is today.  Happy 18th birthday Claire! 

Photo taken at (almost) 18.  Happy Birthday Claire!

"Such sweet joy and consolation"

Easter Sunday morning 1991:  Ali with Richard McIlkenny

30 years ago, on Easter Sunday morning (31 March) 1991, Ali became a Catholic after a journey of faith that she described as "long and tortuous." 

When we arrived early at the Church of St John Payne, Greenstead, Colchester, Ali was feeling very nervous, but said afterwards that her nerves suddenly disappeared when she had the surprise and "overwhelming joy" of seeing someone she had not anticipated seeing on that day: Richard McIlkenny, who was  one of the "Birmingham Six,"  and spent more than 16 years in prison after being wrongly convicted of an IRA pub bombing that killed 21 people and injured 182. He and the other five wrongly imprisoned men, had had their convictions overturned and gained their freedom just two weeks earlier on 14 March 1991. 

Ali got to know Richard in 1987-88, after she wrote in response to a letter of his, published in a newspaper, in which he had said that while he was unjustly imprisoned, the injustice against him did not compare with the injustice against the unborn whose lives are taken by abortion. They then corresponded frequently and Ali met Richard several times in prison.  Ali had told him that she was being received into the Church that morning, but had no expectation whatsoever that he would turn up - an extraordinary act of generosity on his first Easter of freedom since 1974. 

Ali with Richard and friends Brian Collins (left) and Ray McGuinness

The next day Ali wrote about her reception into the Church on that Easter Sunday morning, when she was confirmed and made her First Holy Communion:

"The service itself I remember clearly, but I was in a kind of daze.  I recall being so near Jesus my prayers stopped using words and became simply a looking at and adoring of Jesus.

When I was confirmed I felt somehow that I was nothing but a soul (rather a devastating transformation for one who only a few years ago believed she had been conceived without a soul). I thought of it maybe like when [a priest] gives a blessing, but a blessing the touch of which is permanently imprinted upon one's soul, giving it a "character" which cannot be effaced....

Now I should go on to describe taking communion, but I find that just as I need words most they desert me! Maybe there are no words because it's beyond words, beyond feelings, maybe even beyond knowledge as such.  Sometimes thanks seem inadequate even for earthly gifts - how much more so for this ultimate gift.  As in Lourdes, maybe the closest I can get is to explain that I was no longer praying but rather I became a prayer....

I am a Catholic now; such sweet joy and consolation....."

Easter Sunday morning (4 April) 2021

The most joyful day

Ali at Boars Hill, Oxford, March 1991

Nine days before she was received into the Church at Easter 1991,  Ali made her her first confession - while on an 8-day retreat at the Carmelite Priory in Boars Hill, Oxford.  

On the way to Oxford, on 17 March 1991,  Ali developed a tummy ache, which persisted during the week, at times causing acute pain.  It was a pain that she then had for the rest of her life, the cause of which was never properly established even after various tests and surgical explorations.  The assumption was that it was referred pain from her spine,  and it became more severe and debilitating as the years passed.

On that evening of 22 March 1991 Ali wrote:

"This has been such a joyful day.  Probably the most joyful of my whole life - because I have been set free from my sins...

As the priest said the words of absolution I felt myself being literally "filled with grace."  My body has had pain this last week, but now my soul has been set free I find myself quite happy to accept it and whatever consequence may come from it.  I feel it is my gift to [Ali mentioned three people for whom she was particularly offering up her suffering].  It is good to be able to give when I have  received so much that I really understood today the meaning of 'my cup runneth over'.

Ali at Boars Hill, Oxford, March 1991

22 March 2021

22 March 2021

First birthday in India

Ongole, India: 8 January 2001

Ali's first birthday in India was on this day 20 years ago.   In the previous 2-3 years we had been raising funds to construct a home for disabled girls in Ongole, Andhra Pradesh, that would be named after Ali - the Alison Davis Home for Disabled Children.

The children were excited that "Mummy Alison" would be with them for her birthday, and that the festivities for the opening of their new home would be on this day.  The children had been practising dances, songs and dramas for many weeks, and it was a joyful climax to all their preparations.  In truth, Ali found the focus on her somewhat overwhelming, but was happy that the celebrations brought so much joy to the children.  

January 2001: Ali with some of the residents of the new home

Ali and I had happy visits to India each January until 2006, monitoring the projects funded by the charity we had founded, Enable (Working in India).  Shortly after the 2006 visit we discovered that the Director of our partner organisation in India had embezzled a large sum of money. Rather than let us entrust the work for disabled children to others, he made it impossible for us to continue, and he abandoned the children we had been supporting.  It was heartbreaking for all involved in Enable, but especially for Ali.

January 2001: Ali with some of the girls from the Alison Davis Home

Ali was in England for the seven birthdays between 2007 and 2013.   She would have surely remembered "her children" on those birthdays -  because I cannot imagine there was any day of the year when she did not.

January 2001:  Ali was always surrounded by "her children."

January 2001:  Ali and the girls havng their hands dyed with henna

Alison Davis Home for Disabled Children opened on 8 January 2001

Seven

Two "seven year olds" - Ali and the delightful Maria Brennan (in March 1995)

Seven years ago today Ali passed to eternal life. 

Ali recognised the significance of numbers, in particular the number of perfection: seven. From the creation of the world in seven days in the Book of Genesis, through to the seven Churches addressed in the Book of Revelation, the Bible frequently highlights the number seven.  Catholic doctrine embraces such things as the seven virtues, seven deadly sins, seven corporal acts of mercy, seven spiritual acts of mercy, seven sorrows of the Mary, seven sacraments, seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. 

Ali often spoke of seven as being the perfect age for a child, an age at which, even as an adult with an incisive mind, engaged in serious pursuits, she aspired to live.  Her profound appreciation of what lay at the heart of Catholicism and the pro-life movement was, I believe, because she was able to be so very childlike.  Not childish - far from it.  But very childlike.

On the evening of Ali's death, Tuesday 13 December 2013,  I went to Mass and the Gospel reading for that day - the first Tuesday of Advent -  was so apt:

Filled with joy by the Holy Spirit, Jesus said:  'I bless you, Father, Lord of heaven and of earth, for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children.  Yes, Father, for that is what it pleased you to do.' (Luke 10: 21-22)

Ali accepted the truth that each and every unborn child is precious and deserves to be protected from harm, and that it is never acceptable to cause the death of people who feel life has nothing more to offer on account of suffering or old age or disability, because she rejected the foolishness of the so-called 'learned' and 'clever' people who say otherwise.   She was happier spending time with her young friend, Maria Brennan, than with the 'clever' people.  Ali accepted the totality of the teaching of the Catholic Church because she had the simplicity of a child to recognise and accept its truth.

I'm sure Ali enjoyed the story as much as Maria!

Many of Ali's friends recognised her simple, childlike spirit - how, even though at one moment she might be discussing the finer points of embryology and stem cell research, she could happily switch to talking about her favourite teddy bears, or tell stories about the family of wolves who lived in the garden, and also of an assortment of other nearby residents - Idris the dragon, Vincent the vole,  Clyde the crocodile, to name but a few.  She fitted more into a working day than I would hope to achieve in a week, yet she would have time for the 'silly' things in life when it truly did seem that she was just 'seven'.

On one such occasion, in October 1989, Ali was quiet for a while and I asked what was on her mind. I'm grateful for having recorded the conversation:

"A strange thought.  God is younger than we are.  We only grow old because we have sinned."

-  How do you mean?  "He doesn't grow old."

- How have we sinned?  "We separated ourselves from eternal innocence.  Innocence doesn't get bored whereas as we get old, we get bored.  We lose wonder of things.  Like, we aren't surprised that leopards have spots - it's just a 'fact' - but a child is full of wonder that any leopard has spots or that an elephant has a trunk, etc.

"God is perpetual innocence which is love so he never gets tired of telling the sun to rise again every day or the moon to rise.  He doesn't get bored of telling them:  every day it's new.

"We feel old and experienced but spring is young.  It's a statement of perpetual innocence.  So it's younger than we are. Like, every blade of grass he makes, God kind of says, 'Why didn't I think of that before?' like it's new, like you can read the same story 100 times to a child.  We [i.e., adults] can brush past a field without noticing.

"If God thinks that about each blade of grass, imagine what he thinks about each person."

At a different time, also in 1989, Ali spoke of an occasion when she was about seven.

"I can remember being at home in bed - I was ill quite a lot - and everybody was out and I was just looking out the window and I kept saying, I wanted to know what forever and ever was.  And I kind of got a glimpse of eternity just as I was saying the words and asking Jesus.  I was afraid of "forever and ever" because it seemed the most terrifying concept, which I suppose at that age it is... I just felt that "forever and ever" would be bearable if Jesus was there."

Ali has a better appreciation now of "forever and ever."  

We don't have a true understanding of the requirements of the present moment if we neglect a childlike contemplation of "forever and ever."  Even in the midst of great suffering and distress Ali was able to appreciate the present moment, with the simplicity of a seven-year old, because she recognised the calling to share eternity with "perpetual innocence" and the preparation this requires of us.

Ali with her good friends, Mary (left) and Chris Brennan (hidden behind Ali)  and some of their family.