The Sting Called Death
Death, as Christians we all want to go to heaven but the sheer thought of dying is an unaccepted logic. It is both funny and rather ironic. We all pray not to die yet we long to meet our father in heaven. For me, It is the pain my loved ones would feel at the announcement of my demise besides, it a taboo, a kid should pass on before her/his parents, nevertheless, I am plagued with the thought and feeling this would leave others because I have felt it too.
I was eleven years old when my mom told us, her father had passed. I was unshaken by the announcement till the day came to bury him. I am the eldest grandchild on my maternal side as tradition states, I had to carry on with the burial duties, such as walk-in with the coffin. It was a heartbreaking experience and somewhat traumatic experience, as the trumpets sounded, the church grew quiet, moving in accordance to the tunes, I shed a few tears, the realisation hit me like a cold shower, that the man I had held dear, was gone.
The feeling never left me. It soon came time to lay him down to rest at the cemetery as they lowered my grandfather, I screamed and grovelled in tears. The girl who her shit together, was all broken with mucus making the great escape through my nostrils. My grandfather was no more; All till this moment, I can not bring myself to go to a cemetery or attend a burial ceremony.
I should know because I sabotaged myself from attending my aunt’s.
It is not pride; her death had an equally if not greater effect on me. It shook me although, I believe after over a decade of experience of dealing with a major loss, I handled hers better.
Who am I kidding? I didn’t!
In fact, I did not attend her burial and did not go to church for a few weeks because it reminded me of her. How she would sit in front of the children’s classroom, smiling and taking interest in every child’s need, that woman showed me what love truly was. Her absence not only shook me but the entire church.
I was in denial for weeks after she was buried, thinking and silently hoping that the great Lazarus miracle would happen but it has been over four weeks since she left and I have started accepting that she is not coming back.
She deserves the rest, I say trying to comfort myself
I am gradually getting used to speaking about her in the past tense. I even went up to the children’s department last week, it still does not feel the same without her but the thing with living is we must find the strength to move on.
Just imagine, If I can still feel the pain from a decade ago that I can not bring myself to set foot on cemetery grounds or attend burials. Imagine, how I am coping in a country where killing has become a norm. It is no longer breaking news when the death or murder of person(s) occurs.
Oh, what great pain to live and watch people you care about to leave you.
It leaves you with unfathomable pain, scar and burden too heavy to carry that it numbs you, if care is not taken. It is quite unfortunate, most of us, living, but hurting, numb and in great conflict, because someone we once loved, became the death of us or left us for dead or became dead to us ( figuratively and literally).
We are people hurting because death caused us great pain albeit, Christians view it as a glorious exit, the death that gave rise to so many possibilities.
