Mortality


ripper
When God created life and bestowed it on his creatures, I think he knew how wonderful it would be and how heartbreaking it would render mortals. We were destined to live forever and I always wonder if God knew the wayward angel, Lucifer was going to turn this around. He is omniscient and I wonder if there was no way he could reverse this? I am in no position to question him so I leave it at that.
Sometimes last year my grandma passed on. She was an old strong lady and she died peaceful in her sleep. I had last seen her three months prior to her death which is something I greatly regret. A week before her death, she was treated of hypertension and released from hospital. She was perfectly alright until the night she passed away. This goes on to show how fragile our lives are. We are like at tent which stays up as long as the owners decide it should be up. Here today, gone tomorrow and you become history. 
We were having an important film talk given by film makers Wanuri Kahihu and Jacob Barua at Alliance francaise when I received the deadly call from my dad. I packed my books and disappeared, with no direction whatsoever.  I felt a distinctive chill and I was afraid. I hated myself for not being near her in her hour of death. I loved her dearly. My childhood memories her filled with her gentle soul, her unrelenting spirit, her protectiveness of the grandson.  She gave me pride and made me feel special. While my parents were away at work, she took care of me and pampered me. 
I went to my house and cried, shed tears of agony and questions. I asked God why? Why take her away? I bet some questions are better left unanswered.  I hated my uncle [not directly related and not a son of my grandma] who told me she was old and I should not worry. Should I behave like everything was normal? Hell no1! I got back at him and cursed him. Told him she did not know who she was to me and he had no business consoling me by telling me trash. Up to now I hate him. A kind of hate which arouses bitterness in my soul when I see him. He talked as if she was nothing to me, a stranger in Japan who succumbed to the tsunami. Even a stranger deserves dignity, I hate him.
I always wonder what her final moments were. In the lonely bed somewhere after mid night. Did she see her soul flash before her eyes? Did she resist the pull of death? Did she kiss the earth goodbye? Death is a mystery which you can understand only when you die. 
I saw her before the burial, the once glowing face now dark and ominous. Sweat dripped from my armpits freely, my hands and feet went cold. A lump stuck on my throat. I felt sorry for myself, I missed her. They had stuffed her ears and nose with cotton wool, eyes closed as if she was just asleep on her bed, but she was gone, gone forever. I wondered if her soul was hanging on the room looking at me, feeling sorry for me, a mortal. Her mouth was taped with a transparent tape. I cried again.
I feel sorry that I will never feature her again in my stories, if she were alive I would. She will never talk to me again, encourage me, spin tales for me, I cry.We are mere mortals with no control of our destiny which is death. We will all die someday. Rest in peace mwaitu.
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