My dear Acheing,
My dear cousin, daughter to my aunty…niece of my mama.
I want you to know…
We still talk about you…always. Every gathering.
We still feel your presence, long after you left us.
The words…the feelings, the tears, your absence,
All combined in one emotional mix…
They gush out like something in a rush, something urgent, something that needs to be released.
So dark. So dreary. So dramatic.
My sister still cries when she talks about you, her tears still spill when she talks about you.
They empty out, and when we think she is done, they fill back in, like a form of tragic cycle.
There are so many things that we long to tell you dearie…so many things that have happened.
For instance, I wish I could call you and tell you that you took a rope and hung yourself in your mother’s compound. I wish I could tell you just how many lives you altered with that final stroke of action. I wish I could tell you how your mother wailed in confusion as she tried to come into terms with what you had done. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, how bad I feel that nobody saw the signs. I wish I could tell you that you should have hanged on and seen how beautifully the sun beams when the cloud has passed.
Cousin dearest…I remember everything about your funeral. How the brown casket was lowered into the monstrous hole, how a young life was buried into the depths of this earth, how dreams, ambitions and so much was interrupted by depression…
I remember everything. I remember nothing.
Just emotions, rising and falling and evaporating into my entire being…
I remember tears. Of me. Of your family.
So much is lost after that. Just heavy silence punctuated by sobs and questions of
“What could have made a 19 year old girl with so much ahead of her to terminate her life, to take a rope and end it…”
Sometimes I feel its selfishness. And such times I get confused and angry, and I get a distant rage rising inside me. Did you even think? Of the many broken hearts that you would leave behind?
Of the mother who will spend each day painfully trying to make sense of what you did? Every day, feeling like she failed as a mother?
Of the friends you left without an explanation, so they spend each day trying to speculate and fit the pieces…and come to terms…
So I feel angry.
Then there are times that I feel completely sorry for you Achibo…I feel so sorry, because you must have gone through so much inner turmoil. You must have been so empty, so torn, so conflicted. You must have lost a huuuuge part of you down here before you took that rope and fixed your neck in it.
There is so much I want to tell you…yet you are so far gone.
I want to tell you that days are merging into months. We still think about you. Your grave is still a bit raised, the soil is beginning to level out. People still cry. Your name is still whispered, people are still trying to come into terms…
And the sun?
It still rises.
I wish you would have stayed to see that calmness still comes after a heavy storm.
There is a void where you used to be.
Darkness still decends, blackness still lands, we still miss you, like today, I thought about you and I missed you. Sorrow still lurks, flowing like a cloaked devil.
So we surrender.
We go to our knees, we fall down to all the rugged places, the weight of the pain forces us to bow…
We weep out those wordless sorrowful prayers…string by string…string by string…woven by our tears.
We still go on our knees Achieng. We still pray…
When there is nothing else we can do….
Rockablast sweetheart…gone. Remembered. Always.