Gone Too Soon

BB was driving home from work, very tired from working a 16 hours shift. As she was driving late in the night heading home, the thought of my baby brother flashed through my mind, and suddenly began crying. My eyes became blurred from tears, and my memory became fluid. It had been a month since we burry my aunt, at age 53 from breast cancer. Luckily I was driving in such a late night that there were only few vehicles went by. My baby brother had always been the careful one, the one who worried about hir siblings well being. The one who would wake up early on Saturday mornings and wash his siblings cloths. The one who would relieve the house maid from her duties to take a rest on Saturday while he spent time in the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone at home. His gentleness and selflessness was one of a kind. yet life did not smile on him, he vanished in thin air.

The loss of a family member, at age 44 reminds us that life is too short. Unlike my brother who gave in his all to make others happy, my aunt was the total opposite of him. She grew up to be a very selfish person. She found out how to survive the streets at a very tender age when she lost her father. The dead of my grand father who was the bread winner of a very large African family, made this young girl at age 15 to become a fighter. She fought hard and completed high school with minimal support from her older siblings. She graduated high school and went to college. It is hard to tell if she ever graduate college and beyond because no family memeber can testify highest level of education. According to her, she was working on a 3rd Ph.D. program before her death. No matter the personality of each member of the family , everyone deserved to be loved. While driving on that lonely road that night heading home, I still somehow expected to hear the voice of these dearly beloved family members. Instead, there was silence until I pulled up on my driveway.

Different cultures and people from different parts of the world have different beliefs about the death. Whatever culture we come from, the bottom line remains, DEATH IS DEATH. People might morn others based on the relationship they shared or the age of the individual. Well, all I know is that I am an African woman who strongly belief that there is life after death. I know that some day I will reunite with my loved ones who have gone beyond before me. I try to hold tight on to one little item of that person as a sourvenir. Four my baby brother, I have two of his ties that L like to travel with. I get the fillings of protection having that tie with me. For my aunt, the fighter, the self made person, I have a picture which I treasure since her passing. She thought me how to was my baby girl when she came. These pictures remain valuable assets for me. Every time I looked at these pictures, tears slipped down my cheeks, reminding me of the once bond we shared. My thoughts are raving with the believe that may be she is not gone, and will come back to us someday. My aunt was only older than me for 2 years. We grew up together with my grand parents.

The one million questions in my head is that, is there going to be some merriment when we meet again? are we still going to be families or we are going to belong to a new family. I pray and hope that I will get to meet the following people who have broken my heart into several little pieces. the following list of name is not in any order, but in my subconscious mind, I belief they can hear my plea. A lot have gone wrong in the family since they left us, and it will be nice to know that where ever they are, they haven't forgotten that they left some broken hearts. Agie, Kallah, Susan, Sylvain, Mbongi, Hannah, Martin, Ma. Agbor, Mariana, and Williams hope you all can hear my cry.

I must admit that despite the love I had for these faithfully departed, I cry mostly when I think of the love I shared with my younger brother. I have come to understand that even if I CRY a River, nothing will bring back these persons. Good Nite...