Go well Papa
Saturday 14th July 2018, Mzee Patrick T Njuguna exited, quietly and with no further ado. On that morning I woke up to a nervous stomach and ''drove'' like crazy wondering what it was that I had eaten the previous night that was causing this, the world was quiet no status updates from my family on Facebook, no messages on the family WhatsApp group, nothing just an uncomfortable quietness that was also disturbing, I woke up quite early for a weekend or maybe it was coz of the ''driving'' I will never know, all I know is that he was gone and no one told me I just knew.
My father has gone, he was old, he was sick I was even thinking I was ready for his demise, but no you can never be ready for death. Death is cruel they say but try death when you are alone in a multitude surrounded by many people, all of them meaning well but all you want are the familiar and the close. How do you cry in the arms of a stranger, how do you tell someone you meet discussing budgets how broken you are. Do you stop to explain to the guard at your gate that you are rushing home and he won't be seeing you; when all you have exchanged are polite gestures, maybe you should, there is this one time he carried your gas cylinder upstairs. Lonesome is not loneliness you have used these words before but you never knew their meaning until now.
Death has robbed me of a chance, a chance to spend a little more time with my dad, a chance for me to hear him tell my children those grandfather stories but more than that a chance to just say goodbye. I have no problem with death after all the main purpose of our lives is to die, we live each day to die, however, I have a problem with the way it comes, like a thief, like a sadist, playing tricks on you, measuring you up then striking when you least expect.
Go in peace babana go say hello to Wanjiru, Wanja, Kinyua, Chege, Jogoo and Wambui go dance with your people who left before you, go join the many other yonder, may the winds be kind to you papa, you were the best and so your father above called you home.
My father has gone, he was old, he was sick I was even thinking I was ready for his demise, but no you can never be ready for death. Death is cruel they say but try death when you are alone in a multitude surrounded by many people, all of them meaning well but all you want are the familiar and the close. How do you cry in the arms of a stranger, how do you tell someone you meet discussing budgets how broken you are. Do you stop to explain to the guard at your gate that you are rushing home and he won't be seeing you; when all you have exchanged are polite gestures, maybe you should, there is this one time he carried your gas cylinder upstairs. Lonesome is not loneliness you have used these words before but you never knew their meaning until now.
Death has robbed me of a chance, a chance to spend a little more time with my dad, a chance for me to hear him tell my children those grandfather stories but more than that a chance to just say goodbye. I have no problem with death after all the main purpose of our lives is to die, we live each day to die, however, I have a problem with the way it comes, like a thief, like a sadist, playing tricks on you, measuring you up then striking when you least expect.
Today 16th July two days later I sit here waiting for my flight home, nothing to pack but I still pack, I clean my house and the two plates, call the driver and then wait, I have never wanted not to go home like today, this is very hard friends I wish there was another way, but its the only way to a better place for all of us, it's our path. Nothing really prepares you, you just deal.
It shall be well, even so, it is well with my soul
Go in peace babana go say hello to Wanjiru, Wanja, Kinyua, Chege, Jogoo and Wambui go dance with your people who left before you, go join the many other yonder, may the winds be kind to you papa, you were the best and so your father above called you home.
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