SHADOW OF DEATH

Telling a tale of Grief.

I always believe that you can never know the extent of pain until it happens to you. When others are down, and have pain coursing through their hearts like blade, you are quick to give your condolences, and ask them to move on and be strong. But you would never completely feel their pain as much as they do.

There are various factors that cause pain, but the one I consider the greatest is one I am about to share with you–Death. I have no idea whatever panegyric death has, but it is not something I would hail. Losing someone dear to death's cold hands, no matter how little or old is not so easy to handle as we portray it to be.

Hold my hands and walk (read) with me as I share my story with you. But before then, why don't you subscribe?

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Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

“I have felt pain to the extent that I feel no more. What could be more painful than having someone's world snatched from them?”

1. MAMA

After completing my exams for the term, I was filled with excitement as I approached my class teacher to get my results. I knew Mama would lift me up joyously, and Papa would beam with smiles as I had made them proud once again.

As I bade my friends farewell, I eagerly waited with my box under the tree at the carpark, fantasizing about the delicious jollof rice and chicken Mama had promised to prepare for me. Finally, I would taste something different from the usual watery tea or beans that made me purge out my intestines.

When Papa arrived without Mama, my heart broke. He tried to cheer me up by lifting me as Mama would, and it brought a faint smile to my face. There was not a single grain of jollof rice in the vehicle and this realization made my stomach rumble, it also made me angry.

Why did mama disappoint me? Did she not understand how much I had been through that term? I planned to go in with a frown when we got home. That way, mama would ask what was wrong and I would not respond, then she would go ahead to tickle me and call me obim, we would then burst into laughter. Papa assured me that she was fine and just busy with some things at home.

There was no sign of Mama when we got home. Instead, I met unfamiliar faces, and relatives I had not seen in years. Their dejected looks and sorrowful nods scared me. Gatherings like this only meant one thing. What was going on? Was Yeye dead? Was that why Mama couldn't come? Or were they here to beg for money? I hoped Papa wouldn't give them anything.

I entered the house with shaky legs, while papa dragged my box along. And then, I saw her – Yeye, sitting as though she had no life. If Yeye wasn't dead, where was Mama?

I was struck with reality as I stepped further. On the table lay Mama's framed picture, a book, and a pen – the same setup I saw at Baba's place when he passed away. Memories of the day she took that photograph flooded my mind. She had stated how much she had changed and needed a new picture. The picture was beautiful, and it made me wonder if she knew she needed a new picture for this purpose. She had a bright smile that made her eyes appear closed.

My eyes met with papa’s, and he had a sorrowful look. The pain that followed was unbearable, as if my veins were coursing with misery instead of blood. It felt like my heart would shatter into a million irreparable pieces. I screamed, ready to exhaust my lung’s capacity. Yeye held me tightly, never letting go. Despite the pain, I shed no tear.

After Mama was laid to rest, Papa never left my side. Perhaps he feared I might hurt myself since I kept my feelings bottled up. I felt sorry for Papa, as he had lost his confidant. There were moments I caught him gazing at her picture, letting out heavy sighs. I wanted to hold his hand and assure him that things would improve. I truly hoped for a brighter future.

2. GRIEF

Grief is a painful experience that brings unrest. It eats at you, much like termites feasting on wood. Gradually, you become a shadow of yourself. It leaves you wondering “when, how and why” something happened. You would ask if it could be reverted, but would receive no response. In life, we must accept the possibility that a loved one could be gone in an instant, leaving us with no chance to see them again.

I have grown to embrace this possibility, expecting nothing from anyone. I have also come to terms with the fact that the pain may never completely fade away, no matter how much I try to push it aside; it always returns, even stronger.

For years, I vowed never to write about this, fearing that the tears would flow, though I have never shed a tear for mama even after nearly a decade. Having this experience safely hidden in my memories brings me peace, and shedding a tear would signify my readiness to let go. I am grateful I did not cry while writing.

Jollof rice has become my favorite dish. I prepare it with ease and share it with those around me, although it is never as delicious as Mama's. Writing has also become a source of solace, helping me unload my burdens. Additionally, reading books helps me find peace. I once stumbled upon Chimamanda's Notes on Grief and realized that grief touches us all in the same manner, regardless of age or status.

Papa has now become my best friend. We talk every day, despite the distance, and in his voice lies evidence that he misses Mama, yet he remains strong for me. Sometimes, I worry about the possibility of having to lose him too.

Years have passed, but the void Mama left behind still remains. The pain may not have completely numbed, as I still feel an ache in my heart, but the memories remain vivid. I cherish the time we had together, and though grief still lingers, I find comfort in the love we shared.

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Words to Note:

Papa: Father

Mama: Mother

Yeye: Grandmother, in this context.

Baba: Grandfather, in this context.

Obim: My heart.

Did you like my story? Why don't you show me you did by hitting that heart icon? Or have you experienced grief in a way? Feel free to share with me.

Do note that this is purely fictional.