The night of March 30, 2019.

In one sentence, my world seemed shattered into pieces. My thoughts went through a lifetime in just a couple of seconds.....

My  little cousin is gone....dead ...

I was opened up to an entirely new world today. Opened up to different dimensions of pain and insensitivity.

I will start with the pain. And I will not start with mine. 

The pain of a mother.

Ohhhh the pain. I felt it like a deep cut to her soul. Her spirit was shattered by the news of a lost son. Her vision blurred and oh the fire in her veins! A million thoughts per second running through her mind. The blame, the guilt,the what if's, the entire span of time nurturing the child, the silence, the loss, the pain.

Who says she didn't run mad? Who said she hears you? Who said she needs to hear your thoughts? Why do you think you need to help her make sense of the situation? Why talk? Have you lost a son before? If not, why not be silent and hold her hand? Why not allow your presence and love do the talking?

Oh, my sister.... of steel strength. She groans as words elude her. Like a woman in labour, she groans.... Her wails like a knife cutting through every heart. Her sunken face, her fallen spirit. Who can comfort a mother who just lost a child? Although surrounded by many people, neighbours and family alike....although she is showered with many words of love and encouragement, she has many hands touching her in reassurance and consolation.... yet, she just wasn't there. Oh the depth of the cold, cold within. The darkness of the void... and in the midst of it all, the piercing sound of your voice crying out to your maker, "What shall I render to Jehovah, for you have done so very much for me ....Nara, Nara ekele..." and we all could not help but weep with her. Who wouldn't? In the midst of it all, there is none other but the one who understands your pain.

She zoned in and out of the present, holding on to the memory and the pain of a lost child. She smiles at intervals and then wails at some. Oh the cut....the depth of the cut! Itara abiyamo o! Aunty, I have no words that can console, but I feel this with you, although I know I haven't even grazed the surface of whatever you may be feeling. Death. Now, I know what they mean when they say, love is as strong as death. It is a sting only God can heal.

The pain of a brother

Oh, my other baby. It's hard to watch you cry. It's hard to watch the different emotions you're going through. The denial, the hollowness, then as reality dawns, the shattering wails that wracked your very core. And you looked on at everything and nothing. Just trying to make sense of how things can turn around....just like that!

There's hardly anything you guys didn't have to do together since you were born. Your brother was your ride or die. Now you have to go it all alone and your heart beats in fear for what life could hold in store...

I can tell you that you're not alone but it's the last thing you want to hear. It's the least thing that makes sense right now.

I see your fear for your mum. I see you trying to be strong for her so she can see you and somehow see that you can be enough. I see that you wonder how you can be enough to cover for the loss of your brother. I see how you look at your dad and see him torn yet holding back his tears. I see how you try to be strong like him but fail. Oh the pain.... 

Dear baby, I feel this pain with you. I grieve with you. It's all I can do right now. Hold my hand and never feel alone. May the Lord heal your wounds.

The pain of a father ...

He died in your hands. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain. I cannot begin to imagine the sense of failure you feel Or the depth of the loss. I see you, dear uncle. I see you.

In your quiet corner, you take charge, doing what a man should do. Taking all the attention off you and manning yourself up with dauntless air and trying to be fine. I hear your moans of pain from within the cut in your heart. Oh the loss of a  son! Sleep eludes you. Like it eludes us all....yet you mask it all, just because you have to be strong for everyone else. "this is what the man is supposed to do", they say. Yet who takes care of your pain? Who sees that you are barely trying to hold it all in? Who hears that silent cry of your heart screaming in pain?  Who knows that you need to also sit on the floor and cry in abandon? Who sees that you have no outlet for the pain? And God knows I pray that you find one sooner than later.

You hold it all in. And a tear or two only manages to escape the boundaries of your eyelids before you set the mask back in place. What words can heal the wound? What touch can reach that deep to mend your soul? What can ever be enough to make up for the loss of a son? I do not know. It is a sting beyond mere words. It cuts deep and alters lives.

Dear uncle. My Lagos daddy, I can say a million words but I have none. Not one. But I see you. I share this pain with you. I comfort you. I try to be strong for you just so you can have an outlet now and then. Sir, you don't have to be strong all of the time. Let it go. If anyone thinks this is weakness, he can take to the stage when he loses a loved one. It is easier to criticize or advise when you don't feel the same sting or the same fire burning underneath the skin.

Peace. I speak peace on your heart. Please be healed.

The pain of the cousin, the aunties and the family....

It's a whole different kind of cut. A totally different kind of pain. A loss. A memory. The shock. It is the pain of watching and being part of the grieving process.

At different times, in different places, we all were a part of the journey. The tears never dry....neither are they enough to express the pain. It just is. Like a deep never-ending cut. I know it will take a while but we all will learn how to be grateful for every moment spent with you...rather than wish for the ones not yet spent but hoped for.

Now, I come to the insensitivity.

Everyone seems to have something to say. Everyone seems to want to be heard. Everyone seems to know what to do. And each one comes bearing their own advise. From the one who thinks (and voices it out in form of prayer) that all that happened was because of a committed sin, to the one who thinks the boy is too young to die and therefore needs to be exhumed and reawakened. Why can we not just shut the fuck up and let everyone just grieve in peace? Why come up with your  nonsense and think you've earned the right to speak? Who the hell are you? How many children have you lost? How many have you exhumed? Has everything that went wrong in your life been because of your sin? Have you even read the book of Job, dear pastor? 

Oh the anger in my veins! I just want to yell at someone or push them out just so they can leave with their energy. And yes, maybe I did that and shut the door in some faces but please, don't judge me. It was all just too much.

Can we all just stop talking!!!! Just shut it!!! And let time heal these wounds. Just be there. Just be.  Let the aggrieved grieve in peace.

Let the healing process start....

I grieve with you.

I love you.

And I miss him too.