Is there any story that hasn’t been told? There are so many classics, like the one about the parents that ruined their kids’ lives, or the woman whose husband cheated on her with her best friend, or the one where a freak accident claims a man’s legs and changes his life forever.
That they’ve all been told doesn’t mean we stop retelling them. We just try to find new angles on them and hope people are entertained. This story is one of the classics, it’s the very short story of my dead friend.
My friend and I shared a bond so unique that I was assured he would be a permanent fixture in my life. We had a pure and sinless relationship, which was surprising given how wild I was back then. So I was sure he would remain in my life forever.
Like they say in the movies, I used to think that maybe if we were both still single at 35 we’d get married. I was sure we could find a way to transform the intense friend-love that we shared into a romantic one. But then he died.
Interestingly, I haven’t found love since he passed. What’s the point anyway? You die, your spouse dies, your kids die. It’s like you never were. What’s the point of mourning people even? The mourner will die too, it’s only a matter of time. Sometimes it seems you’re lucky if you die before the ones you love, so that you don’t get to experience the pain of losing them.
But I can’t say I don’t fear death though. I know I shouldn’t, as a Christian I should just see it as a process of removing this troubled earthly body and putting on a better, glorious one. But I feel like the uncertainty of this whole process, plus the fact that this is the only body we’ve ever known – it adds some element of fear to the process of dying.
I feel like even those that say they’re not afraid of death because they’re confident they’re going to heaven are afraid too, whether they know it or not. One woman who usually says this, when somebody close to her died, she talked about the shock for days. I don’t know if she cried, but she seemed really jolted by it. So I think most of us are afraid of death, albeit to varying degrees.
Even living too long, that’s another wahala. My aunt told me the other day that she went to see my 85 year old uncle, and he was so frail and couldn’t recognize her. I know it was sad for her to see her big brother in that state, but I think it was also scary for her. She’s almost 70 so I bet she was imagining how soon she herself would be in a similar situation.
Last night, I reread all the stuff I wrote about my friend when he died. I realized there were some details about him and the life that we shared that I’d started forgetting. It broke my heart. Like I always say, the saddest thing about dying is that the whole world just keeps turning, it’s like you never existed.
So it was sad to realize I was starting to forget some things, even though when he died I’d promised I wouldn’t forget. So I closed my eyes tight and tried to remember how things were so I could etch them into my memory forever. His teasing me, holding my hand and guiding me through the dark paths we wandered when there was life.
What’s the point of doing all that anyway? When I die, will anyone carry a flame for me like this? Will anyone struggle to keep my memory alive after many years? Will it even matter?
My friend’s been gone five years now. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see him in hell because I don’t know that he figured out where he stood with God when he passed. But then I make myself hope that he managed to make things right before dying and made it to heaven. That would be great.
Yesterday, as I was going to bed, I asked God why life is like this. Not in some type of “woe is unto me, why is my life so hard?” type of way. Because it’s not. I was just wondering why the life of man has to be like this. Why are we born in the first place, experiencing the difficulties of life (which would be utterly meaningless without Him), only to die again?
I tried really hard not to be blasphemous as I pondered the futility of human existence. I hadn’t thought about things like this since when I was a kid. It was back then that I used to question the overwhelming pointlessness of being born to die. But as I grew older, I shoved the feelings of melancholy deep down and got with the program of life like everyone else.
Drawing closer to God as an adult has helped me to get a sense of meaning and purpose in life. But sometimes, when I think about my dead friend, I can’t help but wonder about this life thing.
And then I see a friend whose husband consistently cheats on her and beats her up uploading a smiling family photo on WhatsApp. I see another friend who lost her entire family in a car crash and now struggles with addiction try to scam people on our alumni group chat. And then there’s the one who was unfairly kicked out of school who I have to send money to every month to support.
I see all of these people, only a handful of those going through hard times but still a fine representative of humanity, and I can’t help feel like we’re all the butt of some cosmic joke. I hope that’s not blasphemous. I still love God, I just wonder why we…well why we ‘are’.
That’s what I was thinking about when I fell asleep last night. This morning, I woke up with tears on my cheeks. I’d been dreaming about my dead friend, we were walking around arm in arm like we used to, and he was telling me how he would have to protect me when humanity is finally attacked by aliens. I was laughing at how serious he sounded. And then all of a sudden, he disappeared. And I searched and searched and I couldn’t find him. And then I vanished too. And there was nothing.
…Bummer. I’ll make sure to fall asleep meditating on scripture next time so my dreams will only be of things bright and beautiful. No more of these depressing thoughts of life and death.
housegeh 