This thing called death

There is a very narrow line between living deliberately (in the now) and hoping for the future. I think that narrow line is patience. Patience with self,patience with the universe and patience with God. Patiently hoping for tomorrow, patiently living out today and patiently dealing with yourself when you do neither.
This past week death solidified.Death ceased to be that hazy issue discussed in the news or posted on WhatsApp groups to be followed by condolences and prayers or to be followed by the government increasing security measures. The 47 Garissa, Mandera attack, Nepal earthquake, car accidents, buildings crashing….all those figures finally solidified. I felt the pain amd torture that pain brings. The grinding of teeth, twisting of tummies and wringing of eyes that the deceased usually experience.Death became real. It solidified. Its icy hand finally slapped my being into consciousness.
The consciousness that pride and arrogance is not even an option, for how could it be if it just takes the motion of death’s hand to stop me? How could I boast of anything yet I am a mere mortal? A flower slowly withering? A pile of blood and organs?
At first, this consciousness birthed anger. Pure painful anger. Anger that we were really in a matrix. Helpless babes lying to our egos that there are things we actually control. I was angry at the word freedom. How dare it exist? Did it exist to mock us into a treadmill of determination that would eventually end in us losing our breath to death? I became angry at all the comforting words that were all over facebook. Eti: RIP, we will see each other again , stay strong…How? How does strength and rest even come into the picture? And how sure are you about that seeing each other thing? I didn’t want life to move on, I didn’t want any of that strength talk either and no, none of that peaceful resting thing too…
After the anger came fear. Fear at this sense of helplessness because I realised that technically there’s very little I controlled. I would cry at night for Keziah’s passing but also for my own and for everyone around me. We are all slowly dying then we will decay…I began to wonder what happens thereafter, is it my former roommates’ reincarnation story or my heaven and earth one or the traditional society’s living dead/ ancestors thing? It freaked me out and even though I was (am) sure of my faith, having death so close made me question who was really right.
The fear baby birthed by consciousness is now slowly growing. Right now she is balancing carpe diem with hope. She is mastering her circle of influence and her circle of concern but with humility because the the boundary bundary between the two can turn so fast. Now more than ever, the baby is learning to prioritize her relationships. She is learning that we all have holes but we carry on. And as we carry on, them holes are filled up again with hope, since it surely doesn’t end here, and joy to live well in the mean time.
This verse is finally finding meaning for me,”For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”(Phil1:21)
Kezia and Mr. Pere, kuonana ni baadaye!