ASHES, AND DUST (PT.2)

I don’t remember when last I read a book, and I really want to read one. This is not a quote or something deep, I just didn’t know how to start.

First part down, now to the rest of the experience. I wouldn’t call this a story, because that sounds too fictional, which this is not. It was real. Because I felt all these emotions, mostly pain. I was drowning in them, and at some point, thought I might never make it. I thought I might lose myself.

After I got the news of his death, I fell into a melancholic state. It felt like depression, even though I’ve never been depressed (or so I think), but it felt really close to it. Losing interest in everything, tasteless taste buds, skipping time, losing concentration, floating, existing not living. Is that how much impact anothers’ existence can have on another? Is that the extent of empathy I could feel? These new feelings were new to me, I unconsciously awakened them, and I’m glad I did.

He was 10, and after a long battle with biphenotypic leukemia, he gave up on the 3rd of June, 2016. When I got the call, I thought it was a joke, because she said it so casually ‘Ugonna, Brendan is dead o’. My heart broke. I properly understood what people felt like when they talked about heartbreak, it is indeed physical, not just an expression or a form of exaggeration, your heart actually breaks. It starts with a crack, and then you start to feel it spreading like a venom, sipping in slowly like a viper, tearing and crushing into you into pieces. During the course of his ailment, I did all I could do as a person, I prayed. I prayed at every solo moment I get in my heart. I whisper a prayer in the few seconds of blacking out in a conversation, during a lecture, when going through pictures on my phone and I stumble upon his, early morning devotions, late night-time meditations and reflections. Inasmuch I knew that my prayer was nothing compared to how much his family interceded on his behalf, how much time and emotions they invested into hoping and exercising faith, I still knew I had to what I could.

 

“Expect the best, prepare for the best” Muhammad Ali Jinnah

 

Luckily for me, my school was on vacation so which was needed as I needed a clear head. I went searching. I wanted an explanation. I wanted to understand why life can be cut off suddenly, without remorse. Right from when I was a kid and being raised in a Christian home, one thing I always heard was never question God. ‘To hell with it’, I thought. I queried God, I questioned him, I wanted to know. The bible said that we should ask for wisdom, knowledge and understanding and that his ears are not hardened that he can’t hear us. I needed understanding, I was so confused. Early mornings listening to Kendall Payne’s I will show you love, hot afternoons watching Grey’s Anatomy and Blood and Oil trying not to think of my current dilemma and sleepless nights listening to Kendall Payne’s Scratch. For some weird reason (out of boredom I think), I decided to start watching Grey’s Anatomy for the first time ever and stumbled upon scenes of deaths and fell in love with their soundtracks which were Kendall Payne’s.

 

I wanted to understand death. I searched my soul, asked God questions like ‘why?’ ‘Why did he have to go?’ Shouldn’t it have been an awesome miracle if he recovered as he looked forward to coming back for secondary school? Why were his dreams cut short, why did he have to leave so young? Why undergo such torture and not succumb? What’s the point of trying if you knew you’d never win? What’s the point of knowing you’d never win but still trying? Contrasting thoughts and questions surrounding a circumstance and eventually birthing or burying any form of hope.

 

Questions, questions, questions….

 

 

Due to popular demand and to not over-do, the completion would be out in the mid-week. Please don’t get bored. Rather enjoy, like or share it. I believe the story would affect someone positively.

 

Love xx.

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