The angel of death sure visited us, and pitched a tent right in our midst.
There’s been so much death since the year began, our tears have dried up. Each day we wake up to the news of losing a loved one, and barely into their grave, there is yet another death.
We go to bed not knowing who will stay asleep. News of death has become so common, in a twisted way we anticipate it. Funerals are held so often that they have become merely a formality.
Despite it all, nothing prepares you to receive the news of loss of a loved one. Not even a prolonged illness prepares you for the inevitable end. Such news shatters you to your very core. You wish someone would shake you awake to find out it was just a nightmare. You blink so many times, but each time you open your eyes you realize how real it all is, there’s no coming back from it. They are gone, and nothing you know of can bring them back. You are left with nothing but tears, memories, endless grief and sorrow.
You reminisce the good times, and the not-so-pretty ones. Thinking about that phone call or visit that you promised you would make but never got round to. You blame yourself for not being there in their last moments, for acting too busy and conceited. For not being there when they probably needed you the most.
You conduct a self evaluation; were you a good friend, a good son or daughter, were you a great companion? Death brings up a lot of questions that we barely have answers to, the confirmation we seek can only be provided by our lost loved ones.
Life is uncertain, but death is sure. We cannot bring back those we’ve lost, but we can love them while they still live. So why wait to fill my grave with flowers, when I never smelt a rose or held a carnation? Give me my flowers now when I can smell them. Come visit while I can still host you; call me as often as you possibly can. Give me love more than I can take. Hug me while you can still feel the warmth of my embrace. For all these privileges will be denied of me when I finally breathe my last.
Give me my flowers when I can still smell them.
By Cheryl Ang’asa