One day, I went to the hospital to offer care and support as usual. While walking down the ward corridor, a young doctor, Dr. Wang, called me over to the nurses’ station. With a solemn expression, she asked if I could visit Ms. Zhang in Bed 5. Sensing something unusual, I inquired about Ms. Zhang’s situation.
I soon learned that Ms. Zhang suffered from both diabetes and a mental health condition. The previous day, she had been brought to the hospital after a security guard saw her standing on the balcony in a daze for several hours. Fearing for her safety, he called the police. When officers forced their way inside, they discovered that her only daughter had hanged herself. At that time, Ms. Zhang was incoherent and mentally unstable, so she was rushed to the hospital.
Dr. Wang explained that Ms. Zhang’s condition had since stabilized, but she would have to go to the mortuary the next day to identify her daughter’s body. The doctor feared that such a devastating shock might overwhelm her and hoped I could provide her with some emotional support.
I approached Ms. Zhang’s bedside with a heavy heart. Her eyes were swollen from weeping, her gaze vacant. I greeted her softly and held her hand, yet for a moment I could not find words of comfort. She stared at me blankly, her eyes brimming with tears, struggling to speak. I gently stroked her back and whispered: “I understand. You don’t need to explain, and you don’t need to keep asking why. Tell me, what kind of help do you need most right now?”
In a low voice, Ms. Zhang confided that her husband had passed away two years earlier. Now she was left utterly alone, with no savings, and feared she could not afford the funeral expenses for her daughter. I reassured her that many charities exist to provide such assistance and urged her not to worry too much. Seeing that it was almost five o’clock, I needed to reach the hospital social worker before the end of the day, so I reluctantly took my leave.
I immediately reported Ms. Zhang’s case to the resident social worker, Ms. Li. She listened anxiously and stressed that the immediate priority was not the funeral cost, but arranging for a hospital social worker to accompany Ms. Zhang to the mortuary the following day. With that, she hurried away to make the necessary arrangements.
Two days later, I returned to see Ms. Zhang. Beforehand, I sought out Dr. Wang for an update. She told me she had worked tirelessly over the past few days—contacting a charity that supports those unable to afford funerals, reaching out to government agencies to arrange a suitable care facility since Ms. Zhang was unfit to live alone yet could not remain in hospital indefinitely, and even requesting a psychiatric evaluation from another hospital as their own lacked a mental health department. Dr. Wang had also written a report to help Ms. Zhang apply for public assistance, ensuring that she would have some security in the future.
I was deeply moved to learn how tirelessly Dr. Wang had worked to help Ms. Zhang. As a resident physician on rotation, her workload was already heavy, yet within just a few days she had gone to great lengths on her patient’s behalf. I could not help but feel deep respect for her dedication. When I praised her, she replied with humility: “It was only a small effort. Ms. Zhang’s situation is complicated and will require long-term follow-up. I just hope that more people in society will show her care and offer their help.”
Later, Ms. Zhang told me that the hospital’s social worker had already accompanied her twice to the mortuary, and through negotiation with the coroner, had succeeded in exempting her daughter’s body from autopsy. She was now awaiting further arrangements from the charity, after which she would be transferred to a nursing facility.
At that moment, Ms. Zhang could no longer suppress her grief. She fell into my arms, sobbing bitterly: “I truly cannot bear this! My daughter used to care for me in everything—I didn’t even dare leave home without her. She was always by my side. How can I go on living now?”
I remained by her side in silence until her emotions began to settle. Then I gently encouraged her: “There are still many kind people who will help you. You are only fifty; the road ahead is long. You must try to be brave, to adapt to a new environment, to meet new friends. If you find the new place suitable, you can even apply to stay there long-term.”
I suggested that whenever she felt overwhelmed, she could recite Namo Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. She shook her head, saying she had no religious faith and could not bring herself to recite. Understanding her restless state of mind, I gave her a small image card of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, hoping she might find some comfort through contemplation.
In the visits that followed, our relationship gradually grew closer, and our conversations deepened. On our final meeting before her transfer, she held my hand with reluctance and asked, “Venerable, will you come see me at the new place?” Smiling, I replied: “If conditions allow, we will meet again. What matters most is that you care for yourself, open your heart, and face life with courage. When sorrow comes, just recite ‘Namo Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva.’ Don’t be afraid. All suffering will pass, and tomorrow will surely be better.”
Postscript
From Ms. Zhang’s misfortune, we witnessed the true compassion of Dr. Wang, who, as a healer, not only treats illness but extends her hand when others are at their most helpless. Her kindness reveals the sincerity, goodness, and beauty of human nature. May there be more kindhearted people like her bringing warmth and hope to our world.
This experience also impressed upon me the importance of religious faith. In the journey of life, we cannot avoid joy and sorrow, meeting and parting, birth and death. By our own strength alone, it is often hard to emerge from suffering. Yet true faith offers comfort and strength, gathering positive energy, connecting us with good friends on the path, and enabling mutual support. Such faith can become an indispensable refuge in life.
