Friday, 3 October 2014

HIS FEARS, MY LESSON



Dear Clement,

           We went to see your mom, by we, I mean my mom and I. When I saw her I could tell she had started crying from the moment I called to find out where she was. I felt terrible for inflicting such pain on her and almost wished I hadn't come but it was inevitable. Anyone that cared enough would pay that necessary visit. I wondered then how condolence visits started. What it was meant to do and if people were aware of the pain it caused the family members of the deceased to see people who felt sorry for them or with them. It wasn't comfortable sitting with her, we had little or nothing to say. It got awkward, it got quiet, it got empty but we still sat there with her. Eventually I prayed and my mom tried consoling yours with words and all that time I held my own. Then your mom started to talk about how close you and I were and I couldn't hold the tears anymore. Although I still tried to keep it together so she wouldn't break down. All this was going on while I half expected you to walk in and tell a joke.
           I know death, a few has happened in my family but I still couldn't understand it. My cousin, my uncle, my grand-dads and then you. The night I saw the news on Bobby's Facebook page, I was numb, for a few minutes I couldn't process it so I kept going back to reread it. I also read other posts by Bobby, just to be sure. I dropped my phone and distracted myself with some books, I was writing my exams then. Some minutes passed then I closed my books and checked my phone again; it was still there. I sent him a message and finally lay down and the tears poured down. It started as a few free drops, till the gates seemed too narrow for the volume it trapped behind and then the hiccups and heavy breathing and finally the outburst. I could feel you around me as I cried. I imagined you were there trying to console me as I told you I needed to mourn you. You looked down from above and I could see you smile. That instant I became aware of how terrible a friend I had been and I was angry that I didn't get to hold your hands as you laid sick. Maybe if I had been there...
           I still remember the way you called my name in mockery; raising your pitch at d second syllable and stretching the third one. It used to piss me off then. I'd do anything now to hear it again. I remember the frown you had on your face when you advised me not to become a career woman. I  had laughed and I smile now because I understand you were worried about my feminism because you cared. I still haven't changed but I did get a short like the one you wore, I used to admire it on you, it makes me feel closer to you. That day you told me you were scared of what the future held for you and I didn't understand it. You were fresh out of school with a good degree, smart thinking and creative mind. I didn't think anything could stop you; even capital. I never thought about death, now I wonder if you did.
           Looking at your mother I felt insignificant. I realized I couldn't console her, I couldn't even console myself. The only reasonable thing  that I obviously couldn't do was to go get you back for her, for Bobby, for Diana, for Myself and for all the lives that you had touched. You brought laughter and fun, respect and wisdom, you were a wonderful companion and you could always make me feel lucky on my worst days. More than a friend, you were that brother I never had. Every time I walk down that area, that street; anywhere we've strolled and talked together, tears well over my eyes and I smile amidst it knowing I'd never forget those times, your voice, your laugh, your ever pouting mouth. We all love you and we miss you everyday.
 
Your bully,
Damusca.

 

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