Deep Dark Musings

“This mysterious life.”

Life is a mystery. A long, complicated enigma. We all go through it trying to solve the puzzle for ourselves individually. Figure out the intricacies, unravel the tanglement, know the unknown, make whatever iota of sense we can of the chaos, randomness and madness.

Some contribute to the endless confusion. Sowing seeds of discord, initiating actions that will spiral out of control, becoming tyrants, embarking on killing sprees, bombing shopping malls, shepherding zombie congregations, wrecking havoc on entire nations, starting world wars, spreading the darkness. “The heart of man is desperately evil.” But then there are some who suppress the evil and desperately fight for peace and light. They spread love and joy and constantly preach the idea that we can all live in congeniality.

Some just come to terms with the randomness. The world has experienced confusion for billions of years. Nothing shall change. Between the incalculability of nature and the perpetual self-destruct mode with which human nature operates, many eventually come to terms with the fact that we are but “passers-by in this strange world.” And “This world is not my own.”

They are right. At the end of the day, regardless, where one stands; regardless what one believes, regardless how much order and control one brings the their world and maybe even to the world of others. Regardless of anything at all, one thing is sure…

Death.

We will all die. At the end of the day.

The question is “When does the day end?”

“Every dog has its day.” I use that in entirely the wrong context of course, but, it applies still. The point is no matter how attached, entangled and joined together the strings of our life become, they are all individual strings still. We may all be in this so called ‘rat race’ but our finish lines are not the same. Yet, we run the race together. Not against each other. Together.

Kindness is underrated.

There’s a lot of sniffing going on around me right now. Pep talks too. And prayers. A whole lot of prayers. “We will not die.” “No more deaths.” “We will live long and old and see our children’s children.” Lol. The words “untimely death” keep popping up a lot too. Funny.

How can anyone tell?

Death creeps up upon one, taking them by surprise. Announces his arrival from a mile off to another. Comes for the new born, the toddler, the teenager, the young adult, the middle ager, the elderly. Did the elderly finish their race and the toddler get chucked? Is the middle ager a failure for giving up before his time? Is the young adult unaccomplished?

Death will come. The time and place unknown. A teenager somewhere is more accomplished than an 80yr old elsewhere will ever be. A popular person somewhere has far less of an impact than someone else who has a really small reach.

This mysterious life.

Death will come. For us all. At one point in time or another.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

Are you ready?

No one can answer that better than you. Especially seeing how “ready” translates to so many different things to so many different people.

If you died now, what would you be remembered for? Ok, you’re still alive, aren’t you? Well, how about if it were 2weeks back? A year ago? Remember that grudge? That mistake you made that you haven’t admitted to yet? Remember the apology you know you should have offered so long ago now that you feel like a complete fool now that you recall? I don’t go around with a ‘death consciousness’, but I hate to leave anyone with the tiniest bit of a justification to bear a grudge against me. “Sorry” should never be that hard to say.

Emeka’s smile. That’s what I remember the most of him. I hear he was a spiritual dude and that is something I’m glad to hear. But what I can speak for is his joviality and niceness. Emeka smiled a lot. He handled a really sensitive desk and was constantly put under pressure. Yet, he never let the pressure get to him. We hung out a few times, we were not close but we were certainly not distant. Emeka was my friend. I can say that. Emeka was my friend. People tend to look for only the good to say about people when they die. I have nothing but good to say about Emeka. I like to think I’m an objective person and yet, I can’t think of a single negative thing to say about him. Having experienced death very early on in life, I’ve come to be a sort of numb towards it. Very few times, the numbness is broken through. It happened with Dolu not long ago, it’s happened again now with Emeka.

There’s no point praying to live forever, or very long, or that death will not come. We will all die (or get caught up) eventually. “Na you pray pass?” More prayerful people have prayed harder than you will and died young. Heathens have lived long, ‘full’ lives. What’s the point in trying to avert the inevitable.

Live the life you want to be remembered for. Live your dreams.

Emeka smiled a lot. He was a good person. These cannot be contested.

Emeka will be missed.

Emeka

Modurodoluwa

I had forgotten how to cry. And yet the tears spilt from my eyes, flowed freely even though there was company here. Death is no stranger to me. I have loved and I’ve lost many times over and yet, I do not cry. But I cried when I heard you were gone. I cried, Dolu.

I cried for all the times I should have been in touch and I seemed too busy. I cried because I remembered you just this past week and didn’t call or ping or DM. I cried because, as the testimony all around is, you checked on your friends over and over again and yet, you were easily taken for granted. I cried because you said you were now fine when you apparently were not. I cried because I realize now that what this meant was that you just still cared about us more than the pain you didn’t want to burden us with. I cried because I realize how much of a selfish person I am. That I am only just coming round to writing this is proof.

I cried for you, Dolu.

I already miss you. I can’t even remember the last time I got to see you. I remember December 30th, when we took the only pictures I have of us together. And even now, it’s rather fuzzy whether or not I saw you after that. That’s how bad a friend I have been. I heard and I dug up my old blackberry to read through our last chat (I never end our convos), only to find and remember that I had accidentally ended our chat mid-convo that day two months ago and so only had the last words we wrote each other. That hurt bad. Real bad. Two whole months without speaking to you and all I have to reminisce on are a few sentences and a photograph.

But that isn’t all, is it? I remember your faith. I remember your smile and how despite everything you were going through you never let your smile wane. I remember how much you kept asking how I was doing even when you were the one in pain. I remember that the last convo we had was how you would help me look out for info about getting a new apartment. I remember you dancing crazy at D3ola’s house last year. I remember meeting you for the first time at TNC1 and that the last time I clearly remember seeing you was TNC5. I remember wondering why you seemed upset with me the last time we chatted. I remember you insisting I hadn’t done any wrong and that you were fine. I remember telling you I loved you.

For you, I asked why. You’re the only one for whom I’ve ever asked why and I pray I never come to such a dark place again, where I ask the one who owns all life why He would take what he freely gave us and what we all must undoubtedly relinquish back some day. But I asked why and I’d still like to know clearly why you had to go and amidst so much pain too.

At least, now I know you are at peace. And there’s no more pain. I’m writing this and surprisingly there are no more tears. I’m just glad you’re free now. It hurts that you’re gone and that I didn’t get to say goodbye and I wasn’t there for you leading up to your journey home… but I’m glad your smile now is undoubtedly genuine, through and through. It’s a struggle but I’m smiling with you, Dolu.

Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being the extra amazing and inspiring person that you are. I celebrate you.

I love you, Dolu and I miss you. Rest well.

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Modurodoluwa Ige. An angel.