Freckles

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firstTo tell the story of happy endings without the struggles and choices that ultimately lead to the happy ending is elusion at another level. To tell the story of loving deeply and believing in the promise of an endless passionate love without appreciating and understanding that young love can be tragic and heart-breaking is deception. And yet as we grow old and grow up, we learn that we cannot avoid exposing ourselves to the tragedy because  love is as much a basic need as food, shelter and clothing. While some of us are lucky enough to keep spark of the young love all the way to the alter, most of us go through heartbreaks and tragedies that, even though injure our hearts, mold the same hearts into understanding the dynamics of loving and the routine of selfless love. Of acing the struggles and challenges of our relationships and living together ever after. (Possibly happily). We learn that in love, getting it wrong is part of getting it right…

***

I digress.

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There you are

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I was in campus, young, aggressive and ambitious! I sat across the table in utter amazement; wondering what people did and how they did it to achieve half of what he had in twice his age. He had landed a dream job in a dream company right after his undergrad studies. And he was the type that bloomed wherever they were planted. He loved his job and his job and the bosses loved him too.

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“Are you just lucky or do the stars simply align for you wherever you go? I mean how do you manage to achieve so much, so effortlessly wherever you are…”
I asked with a slight pinch of intimidation. His success story could easily intimidate anyone.

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Politically incorrect…

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Image result for politically incorrectAnd behold we have the President of the Republic of Kenya. What a week! Allow me to take you just a few steps back, the weeks before the week!

For purposes of this post, we shall start by some quick definitions.

  1. An ordinary household– This was a household whose main political interest was either Baba, or the retention of Uthamaki.
  2. An extra-ordinary household– This is a household whose political interest was beyond the presidential ballot. One of the family members was vying for a political seat.
  3. Le famille extraordinaire– This is closely related to the extra-ordinary household. The only tiny detail I would like to add is that the person vying was independently contending. This is a family that had already gone through the first round of disappointment and was waiting for the second round with butterfly anxiety.

Please pick your household and proceed…

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The coulda boyfriend

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realIn a world of perfection, the idea would have been to meet, greet, click, date, marry, live happily ever after. But we live in an imperfect world, marred with flawed people and flawed situations.  Between the meet and  happily ever after, we swing between coulda, woulda and  shoulda circumstances. Am I sure? Can I stand this? Who does that? What kind of girls has he been dating? He is so clueless it hurts…

So the magnifying lens is prominently on the coulda boyfriend today. This is that one boy who could have been your boyfriend if he behaved right; better than he does.

He puts in just enough effort to keep you coming back, he forgets just enough times to keep your patience, he lies just enough times in the pretext that he is ‘protecting you’ to make you remotely believe that he pro’lly cares about your emotions…he keeps just enough mystery to keep you curious: to make you want to unravel the mystery for your own satisfaction. He has mastered the art of keeping his options open perfectly enough to trigger you to put in work to try close the other options. Continue reading

Diaries…of social media

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socialWhat had started  as a casual relationship with social media became something serious when I started stopping by at least one social media platform once every day at a bare minimum. I was hooked, still am. 

***

In my daily visits, I made a world of virtual friends and idols. I took interest in what they were upto, and I selectively let them know what I was doing too. I liked them and they liked me too; I double tapped, and they double tapped right back. They reacted to my status and posts and I unfailingly returned the favor. I developed a special connection and interest with people I met in this virtual world and I enjoyed popularity in the virtual space. It follows that I developed a  shallow understanding of people’s circumstances that I so blindly believed.

love this girlIt is of such visits that I discovered one trophy couple: Daniel and Dannieller. But then one day I woke up to the news that they had broken up! How? Why? I felt cheated. I had looked at their life and admired it in every way. They looked happy, they went on holidays and publicly displayed their affection. He took time to appreciate her and confess his love for this woman who had taken his heart to a captivity he would gladly live  in for a lifetime. And she said he was loyal, smart, her dream come true and all the sappy sentiments a girl in love possibly could…. Continue reading

Diaries…of imperfect perfections

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fairest.jpgI met Raz back in 2003. A half Madagascan half Luyha girl with the body of a goddess. (I recently got that ‘body of a goddess’ line from ours truly).  I looked at her in adoration and ran to Winnie. “What can I do to look like her when I grow up? I want that body… hips like those, curly hair like that, same everything. But mostly the hips.  She laughed. “She’s Luyha. And besides, hips are determined by the pelvic bone. I doubt we have those genes’.  Everyone has a different body structure….She went on, but I was no longer interested in what she was saying. At 11, I had just discovered my body idol and nothing would stop me from getting such. The idea of an hour glass body became an obsession from that moment. I can’t say that boys were my motivation then; my head had not yet started reacting to their presence. I had not started getting the tingly feeling from boys’ stares which leaves your head feeling lighter and I did not even imagine that there would come an age when boys’ comments and opinion on my body would matter.  story for another day…All I wanted was that perfect body and height. I went through my teenage years and early twenties with that picture-perfect figure all in my head, waiting for the hour of body tranformation! 

But the giver of bodies had another design for me. In fact, he gave me the complete opposite of what I wanted. I grew up to be a small girl. I endlessly wished  I was taller, wider, more visible… I look back and realize that I always wanted to be more than I was. When it came to my body, I was never enough! My weight was never enough, I never left the presence I wanted to leave. My hair never turned curly, my hips never got the perfect curve I had in my head…and my height never went as high. I spent years waiting and hoping that I would bulge out. Then there was Granny who said I was sickly thin. It got to my head and I started eating like a pig. The only part of my body that responded to the heavy feeding was my fingers, they became nicely fat and evidently well fed. In high school, they teased that all my fingers were thumbs. In campus, they baptized them sausage fingers.  And they know how to stay loyal to those names: these fingers.

But it was in campus that I started learning how to accept my body. Mostly because 5-Ways-To-Finally-Get-Over-Your-Body-Insecurities-For-GoodI realized that every girl around me had a body struggle. Even the ones I thought were picture perfect in every dimension did have things they hated about their bodies. No one seemed  comfy with their body. There were those who complained of their tummies,(obsession with flat tummies), sometimes foreheads, sometimes big ears(IKR), uneven skin tone,mostly love handles, and predominantly small boobs/small hips.

Ironically, it was in campus that people would ask me what I did to keep such an amazing body. HOW?! Clearly they did not know the finer things in life if they considered my body amazing. I took the compliments on my body as blind flatters. Such is the reality. No one ever seems to be in perfect terms with their body. We are always looking for that which we feel that we are short of. Small girls crave to be big, the big ones sweat about losing their weight. There is the obsession with beach bodies, and the obsession of perfect curves. The desire to break necks just by passing by.

http---mashable.com-wp-content-gallery-famous-womens-quotes-about-body-image-oprah.jpgSo this goes to all the girls out there battling with body insecurities. When you love your body, it loves you right back…and the world retaliates in a hundred fold. All you need is to understand your body and know what to flaunt and what to keep in low key. You are imperfect, permanently and inevitably flawed. But tell you what, it is because of this that you are uniquely beautiful.

 

***

Up next>>>Diaries…of social media

 

Diaries…At my age

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good-eI am guilty of having periodic attacks of ‘at my age’ disorder. As a typical mid-twenties millennial stuck between making the best out of her life, and doubting her capabilities just because her peers seem to be doing better. As a corporate baby struggling to strike a balance between settling in her career or pursuing other fields of interest. But most predominantly, as a girl trying to strike the delicate balance between her career, family, relationship and personal development. One moment I feel that I have it all figured out, the other moment it feels like I am stagnant… Either socially, mentally or spiritually.

I remember how it felt when one of my closest friends got engaged. I scrolled through the mind blowing photos with alternating shades of jealousy and excitement. She was 25! How does it feel? Are you ready? Are you sure? Goodness, we have grown…I sighed. She looked at me and teased…’who’d have thought I’d get married before you? What happened ma’?’ We laughed. My facebook news feed did not make it any better on that particular weekend. Of baby showers, engagements and weddings of peers. At 25 I was supposed to be married. Socially stagnant now…. I thought.

I have had replays of such conflicting tints of emotions on several other occasions. Just the other day, when my friend got a new job and called me to break the news with evident gusto, I was happy, really happy. As soon as he dropped the call though,  I yet again sank into self-evaluation. Had I resigned to fate? What effort was I making towards my career growth and personal development? Was I happy? Was I settled? What really did I want with my life and what was I doing about it? At my age, where had I planned to be? 

At least once every month, I battle with this disorder. I sweat small things, I make plans and forget about them, I set goals and miss the mark.  I have moments of self doubt every so often…Then I look at peers and for some reason, they seem to have it all figured out, they look as though they are doing perfectly fine. How do they do it at their age ?

***
A week ago, I came across this short piece, which I spoke to my soul…

AMA “At My Age”

Don’t ever allow your emotions to tell you what should be happening “At your Age”

At my age people have kids,  At my age people are married…

At my age people have licenses, At my age people have degrees and PhD’s…

At my age people are working,  At my age people have cars…

At my age people have houses!

That’s a disease!  YOU NEED TO LEARN TO SAY:

controlAt My Age God is with me! At my age God still has plan with my life! At my Age Abraham and Sarah were still fresh and waiting. At my age I am exactly where God wants me to be. At my age I am doing everything I am supposed to be doing to be where I am supposed to be. AT MY AGE God is my Refuge, God is my Strength, my Comfort, my provider, my everything. I refuse to panic until age puts me in a mental cage.

And so at my age, I choose to believe that I am right on track! And so should you!

Diaries…of relationships

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Hello brilliant readers!

marry

Today, we shall talk about those questions which do not have answers and leave you doubting your brilliance. When parents, grandparents and the larger society gang up to ask you why you are not getting married. You have the job, the house, the car, and you are a nice person. But then, why can’t you find a husband or a wife? The biological clock is not friendly either. You know things are starting to get thick when your next of kin start suggesting the viable bachelors and bachelorettes and telling you that you probably need to revise your standards as though they were there when you were setting the standards. What matters, they tell you, is simply a respectful person you can start a family with, humble beginnings never killed anyone and blah!

A friend of mine suffering from lack of a woman to marry recently told me that nowadays, once you hit 30, it becomes a taboo to still call you single.

marry-2

Your new title becomes an ‘unmarried man’ or unmarried woman’ and a small graduation ceremony should be held where you meet men and women of your cohort to revise strategies. But I will be the adorable writer who will just call you single, whether you are 20, 25, 30 or 40…

Why are you single? Or why are you in a relationship you see no future in.Take a few seconds and think about the people you choose to date. What they do differently, how they treat you, What you see them for, and why we date them. In the grand scheme, why do we choose one person over the other as a partner? What really makes them better? And why do we settle for convenience relationships or say that we cannot find the appropriate partners?

We spend time lamenting about the lack of men and women to settle with, the lack of eligible life partners. Paradoxically, we live in a world and a generation full of single men and women who insist that they cannot find marriageable women and men, leaving you wondering whether the problem is the men or the women. We find solace in failing marriages and opt to lie that we are taking time to ensure that we make the right choice.

***

why

I recently got into a small fight with my good friend. Reason? He had just gone through a pregnancy scare (Yes men do also go through these things)…But then, his worry was not the possibility of getting an unplanned for child, but having a child with that particular woman. ‘Certainly not the type of genes I want for my babies’…he said. Offended (more as a woman than a friend), I gave him some short tiff on how vain he was, asked him why he was with her in the first place and reminded him to keep his mentality that he was God’s gift to women in check. (Sorry by the way). Thinking about it later though, I realized that we all trend on such acute double standards at one point or another. We possibly have been with people who we either feel are not good enough for us or vice versa.We settle and compromise, but conveniently hope that somewhere along the way, we will get better. That our prince charming or our fairy tale princess will appear and sweep us off our feet and eventually find our happy ending. We consider the possibility of marrying our current partners with faint hopelessness. We cannot admit that we are dragging them along to a future that possibly does not exist, or a future that we do not necessarily look forward to. But we keep the options open so that in the unfortunate case that our happy ending does not eventually show up, we will have a fall back plan.

Sad as it is, most of us date people…not for who they are and the combined synergies we have that would ultimately make us the power couple; but for how good they are for us. Because they are good for our profile, socially acceptable, appealing to the eye, good for the babies…As you climb the corporate ladder, standards rise and we automatically draw the profile for the people we consider for possible partners. And naturally so.

And so we step to the dating world with that profile of what we are looking for. So much so that when we go to our friends all smitten, they first seek to fit the potential partner to the profile that we had previously (obviously) presented to them. We discuss their ‘personality’, their brains, their sense of class, their looks, their background…and seldom how they make us feel. Should we have the slightest feeling that they do not match the profile or will not be accepted warmly in our circles, we subconsciously find ourselves defensively inserting ‘buts’ in every single line .

And then, we start dating the profile idea; that they are this, but they will be that; or they have the potential to be that. We get into relationships that we have already played over and over again in our heads. We settle with the expectation that they will treat us in a certain way or they will grow into being our dream partners. (FYI, People never change, much less for others).

deliver

We know what he is capable of doing judging from his talk, he has conveniently chipped in the kind of life he ‘leads’, his potential, and his grand life scheme. He has mastered the art of talking about his life plans alluringly and he is gifted with the striking ability to make you buy into his dream and vision. Complementarily, as a woman, you have the natural ability to buy into a man’s dreams blindly and to believe all his promises. The world temporarily stops when you meet a man who tickles your fancy. #husbandmaterialalert#suitablefatherformychildrenalert#weddingbells#patiencepays and all those sappy hashtags.

love

But reality kicks in as soon as we get into the comfort zone. As we get deeper, we get frustrated when it turns out that they are not as ambitious as we thought, not as romantic as we had imagined. The richness lustre probably falls off as we realize that they are tangled up in loans. For men, you start realizing that she is not as sweet, brilliant and loving as she seemed. She is more nagging than you expected and more demanding than you can tolerate…

You both start noticing possible greener pastures forgetting that the grass is only greener where you water it; and you occasionally stalk seemingly happy couples on social media and wonder how they do it, how they remain sane while you are suffocating!

happy

Most relationships end out of frustration. Not because their partners are bad people, but because the idea that we had bought in the beginning fails to materialize. When he stops putting the effort to win you over, and when she stops the pretense of trying to act as a wife material. ( By the way, women work for that ring, a big deal)!

And then there is the money/romance issue. Effort starts being gauged on the price tags and pricey gifts are taken to replace emotional connection. We envy couples who seem to have a certain kind of life, and even pressure our partners to plan for similar things…on bad days, placing them on the same scales with the exes that we have never gotten over.

ladies

Speaking of which, I cannot possibly end this without mentioning this in passing. Ladies, do not become a gold digger in the name of being a high maintenance woman or having standards. In fact, run if you find yourself deep in a lifestyle you cannot sustain if the relationship tumbled. If the only financial decision you are involved in is the sort of gift you get, you clearly do not belong there, and if you do, you are part of his wealth/property. There will come a point when life decisions will become weighty, when you will not be judged by the ability to receive gifts but by your ability to add value and hold the home together while remaining subtly grounded.

But perhaps, the problem is never who we date really, but the motives behind which we date.Good luck in finding your genuine happy endings.

Diaries…0f being 24

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Somewhere in the middle of 2016, I turned 24! Over dinner, they asked what my plan for the New Year was. And right that moment, two things dawned on me: That 1. I was a few months away from being 25 (a lot has been said about quarter life crisis)…and 2. I was already halfway past 2016, with little to show for the new year resolutions I had so ambitiously set.

I will take you back a little bit. Somewhere in the beginning of 2016, I had sat down and carefully written down my plan for the year. My New Year resolutions, my goals, the mile stones to look out for, the mantra to drive me for the year, my aspirations and all. Being a July baby meant that my birthday was some sort of interim self-review. Of where I had pictured myself, and where I was. And a time to reevaluate the plan if necessary.So I went back to the drawing board. This time, to plan for my last year before hitting 25. That very night, I turned 24, as a whole new person! *I kid you not:-)

***

At 24, I made many conscious decisions on what I was doing, how I was doing it, what I was going through and how I would go through it. I intentionally took charge of the friendships I kept, the life I led and each single path that I took. I can’t say that I had a smooth sail, it’s far from it. The highs were peak high, but the lows were real deep! But by far, this is the one year that has been the most fulfilling. Here is a sneak peak of the top lessons I learned.

0001Attitude is everything. A lot changed when I adjusted my attitude to streamline it with the present situation. I get more involved in tasks and I am more in touch with those around me.  At work, I take assignments with ease, complain less,  and delve more in the present moment. Consequently, I enjoy more and deliver better results.  My advice is that attitude is contagious, be that breath of positive energy.

validationSelf-validation:

I consciously decided to believe in myself and my abilities. Beyond a certain point, you realize that the only person who has the right to make you feel bad about yourself is you. While at it, I realized that you do not need validation from other people; and that you do not need to be thirsty and eager to impress other people. Do what you are required to do, give it your best shot and the other things will fall in place. And it is very okay to walk away from that which does not add value to you, from they who either do not value you, or you do not value, from habits that do not build you, from relationships which drain you rather than build you. Because the most important person to you really, is you. So whatever pleases your soul, do it.

Mistakes are part of growing. As you grow, you learn to accept that it’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s okay to mess here and there. At 24, you find yourself making the tough decisions. Financial, social and career choices. Things go wrong, plans fail, businesses fail, you lose investments, money comes and goes…it’s a roller-coaster. But always remember that it’s better to make those mistakes now than later. Make those decisions now, make those mistakes now, experiment now, fail now. But LEARN! No matter what you do, no matter how many times you screw up, no matter how many people tell you what you can’t do, keep going. Never quit! You learn that we can have little glitches here and there without being labelled dysfunctional.

Patience is the master key to every situation. One of my all time favourite quotes is that when you walk through hell, keep walking. You will soon get to the end of the fire. I learned to have empathy in every situation, surrender to everything, but at the same time; remain patient and forthcoming. Watching my boy Bob battle with cancer taught me what patience and endurance meant. It taught me to appreciate every second of the present moment knowing that it could always get worse. I still struggle with accepting that he succumbed, but I pride myself in a hero who fought for his life with all it took. Of someone who valued every second and every breath. Of someone who changed my attitude in ways I cannot explain.

familyFamily comes first.

If there was a lesson I had previously  picked in 2015, it was to put my family first. Through the year, 2016, I had my family first. I consulted with them more, talked more and hanged out more. We discussed issues. I told Mom almost every decision I made. When people say that Moms are always right, they are right.  Every golden piece of advice came in handy.

 

Wishing you, my dear readers, a happy festive season full of God’s grace.

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer” – Albert Camus

Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow

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Yesterday.

Image result for yesterday today and tomorrowThe hospital has become my every evening chill out place lately. It has taught me how to appreciate my health and life in profound ways. I am starting to get used to the fact that death is a close reality. But my boy is all good. There is CAN in CANcer, he says. And so he can handle it.

I recently started keeping a diary for him. When the storm is all over, I plan to tell him how much of a difference he has made in my life in the last couple of months. He has taught me how to love, laugh, and endure. I have learned how to care. After the prognosis, I was at a loss. We all were. Cancer had struck right home. I cannot say that I have had a moment’s peace after that. Most of the time, I am on the net reading about bone cancer, and cancer in general, how to deal with it, what to eat and what sort of talk the patients want to hear. He has lost weight considerably over the last months and this hurts me.  Just the other day, I  started online tutorials on how to give a massage: my daily duty to him! And while at this daily duty, every single day,  I look at him and realize just how fast things can change.

His name is Bob! My favorite peer cousin and a cancer warrior. The tumour has been getting worse by the day. Massaging it has been getting harder by the day, it scares me even. Nowadays, I faithfully wear glasses to conceal my tear struck eyes most of the time. He is now comfortable with me tagging my friends along. Sometimes, he scrolls through my phone pics and asks if I can tag a specific friend next time, and I do. Always. Despite the pain and the strain that he is going through, he still affords us jokes. He wants us to talk like all is well. I forgot to mention, but he is admitted in a sick ward! Patients here die every day and he dreads it just as much as I do.

Before the clock struck midnight yesterday, he  left for home. For palliative care…

The day between yesterday and today,  I picked a diary entry extract. Of the day after his vein raptured and tore the skin. He bled to near death. I went to see him the next day.

Tuesday 11th October, 2016.

I barely slept yesternight and my eyes are tear struck. Yesterday, his vein burst open, he lost a lot of blood. He is now back in the hospital.  I can’t imagine how he is. Is he in pain? Has he eaten? Has he gotten blood? Is he still bleeding? And a lot of why’s fighting at the back of my head. I can choose to stay here and pretend that all is fine or find a way around it. I take a leap of faith and leave the office. At the hospital, I find him holding up quite well. He is happier than I have seen him in a long time. Talks about his stay home and the kind of pain he has gone through away from the hospital. What is palliative care without a doctor by your side? He glances at his thigh, then at my shy hips and back to his thigh.

“You know this tumour is bigger than you hips now?!” He teases. He adds something to the effect that the stomach has changed its alignment to only feed the cancerous leg and that’s why it’s growing like an elephant. I don’t get it, but I pretend to. As I feed him, he complains that the ward is full of old men. He feels like his life is 30 years ahead, some diseases are not for the young.

Then out of the blues, a priest comes. He has come to give him the sacrament of anointing of the sick, it’s a sacrament for the dying.

“They think I am dying.” He says almost inaudibly. I look at him in shock, struggling to keep it together.

“C’moon, I don’t think so. It’s just a matter of time and you are back on the pitch”. I know he misses football a terrible much.

“Then  why would they be giving me this sacrament now??” He asks, both firmly and with a faint stench of anger.I know him well enough to understand that he is angry with whoever it is that has lost faith in his battle, and at the priest for giving him a premature annointing.

I am also at a loss. It’s the first time reality strikes me real hard from my bubble of blind optimism. The first time I ask myself the what if questions… what if he succumbs? What if he doesn’t make it…what if. Stage 4 might be deadly, but not for him. This whole process and period hurts me he has no idea. But I trust the process, and even more, I trust in his fighting spirit.

***      ***

Texas cancer centre came…

Out of all the hospitals you have ever been to, this one has been the most challenging for me to visit.

Either way, I come: still, every day. Cancer patients are special. Next to you is Apolonaire, a fairly old Burundi man. His wife never lets him out of sight. Sometimes we converse in French. She is uncertain that he, Apolonaire, will survive. But all she can do is hope. This kind of love is pure bliss. But she worries more about you, you can barely turn without help. She is sad that cancer started the fight on you at such a tender age. She thinks you are amazing, you talk and laugh despite everything, you breathe positive energy. It’s a ward of 4. Two patients have succumbed in the last few days. But you are determined to live. Chemotherapy just started.

I have been stealing a lot of time to try understand how chemo works, and what options we have. I also seek medical advice from M., he answers all the questions I ask.  I call to ask what is wise, and what is not. Sometimes, I sneak out of the room to talk to him. Ask why you are sweaty, and in pain, and grumpy. What to do, how to do it and when to expect your tumor to disappear. Will it really disappear even?He understands both of us and what we are going through.

But chemo has made you a grumpy boy. I can no longer pick or make calls during my visiting hour. You don’t get why I can’t give you 100% attention. So I choose not to make or receive calls at all. I have been tagging more friends for the evening visits. Nowadays, we all pray together before leaving the ward.  We all have faith in you, we all want you back on your feet. Chemotherapy has given you a kind of pain we never knew existed and it breaks us apart. You tell us that it is burning your entire body in a sort of fire you cannot quite explain. And it also gets you tired and sweaty all day.  We come, see you, get weak but feign strength. But as soon as we step out, we lose ourselves in near despair. How can we not when pain, sweat and more pain is all what we see in the patients?… And now, you have repeatedly told me that you now want the leg amputated. Anything is better than this kind of ache. Then you ask if I will help you get a girlfriend if you only have one leg, petite like Chi preferably. I promise to. 

Today

Image result for accepting deathThings were all good yesterday And then the devil took your memory.

And if you fell to your death today I hope that heaven is your resting place I heard the doctors put your chest in pain,

But then that could have been the medicine,

And now you’re lying in the bed again.

Either way I’ll cry with the rest of them…

…I could look into your eyes Until the sun comes up and we’re wrapped in light and life and love.

Ed sheeran’s Afire Love has been on replay mode for more than an hour.

 ***

Seated by a corner window listening to this jam, over and over again. The sun decided to set in the morning today…and I have to deal with it. I received the news of your demise with repulsion. I feel nauseated and weak….and no, I have refused to accept. Maybe it’s a lie. You are a fighter.. The flight is taking forever, all I want is to get to the hotel and lie down. It will be a tough assignment this one. I uneasily scroll on my phone, back and forth. Our latest photos, our latest chat. But why do I call them latest? Those were the LAST chats that I’d ever have from you, last photos! But how did this happen? It was just the other day.

It feels like yesterday, just the other day when you were recovering from the second surgery, limping and in pain, but recovering well. We both were in agreement that the tumor could not be carcinomas. Your Dad let you drive his car around then, and you behind the wheel looked all good. Then life changed real quick. The swelling started, the admissions started, the complications came and you could not walk anymore. It’s an uncomfortable kind of a memory. I won’t lie that I will be fine, or that I will get used to you being gone, and me being here. It will be a lie. I  feel betrayed to the bone. Death betrays. He ought to have prepared me psychologically that the last visit at the cancer center was the last. Will acceptance of your untimely demise replace denial of your absence?

 

Tomorrow:

Image result for till we meet again

And tomorrow, you will be laid down to eternal rest.  I will try get accustomed to the fact that I do not have you anymore, that I will not have evenings fully booked by you.  I will find a balance between remembering you as a lovely memory of hope and resilience: and a sad memory of the sort of  pain I saw you fight with undying strength. But until then, until I know how to reconcile between your absence and the hopeful anticipation of seeing you again, I will only hope that you found your resting place.

Appreciation to everyone who walked the journey with us. And to my visiting partners, Cii, Drew, Chichi, Lily, Faith, _Serah, Josh, Winnie & all..you made the last days a whole lot more meaningful. To the medical staff, every  effort is deeply appreciated.

Hopefully, we will all find the grace to believe that God’s timing is the best.