WHEN I SEE THE DEAD…

This write up is inspired by what I feel when I see the facebook profile of an acquaintance that is now deceased. I just looked at the profile of a new friend that added me on facebook and while I was surfing through her pages and photos,

I laid my eyes on an old friend that passed away recently and I felt so sad and cringed with fear. We all owe the debt of death, whether rich or poor, male or female, white or black.

I have lost some friends while growing up at every phase of my life but since the advent of facebook, I think the social app has made it even hard to swallow the fact that these friends are gone forever. This is so because we tend to see their pictures when they smile, at points when they did important things to/with/for us. Case in cheek is a friend I lost recently, Bube (as we fondly call him), who happened to be one of the few friends that inspired me to learn how to play the musical instrument and then go on to be an artiste.

He was ill when I went to him to come grace my concert and despite his ill-health he came to my concert PRESS PLAY and even played the konga (percussion played with hand) when he had the chance. He was hearty and danced all through and even as I write these article, knowing that he’s no more with us, makes tear swell in my eye. He was an iconic friend indeed and I don’t know if it’s a blessing or pain that facebook and twitter (social media) help to keep their memories alive and fresh all the time. Maybe they should bring down their profiles when it is inactive for more than 6 months, I might be able to bear seeing pictures of my good friends gone from me eternally.

but that is just a thought; I might just be foolish right now or maybe na only me waka come, so make i kontinu.

When I see the dead, I cringe, knowing that we are all susceptible to it through the fickle flesh that covers this spirit yearning for freedom. When I see the dead, I tire. But then, when I see the dead I know that the people I have wronged must be apologized to because tomorrow I just might not see them again. When I see the dead I know that whatever you think you are worth on earth is weighed ONLY by the epitaph as written on your grave; if you even went there in one piece (ask BH victims) and the words (if kind or harsh) of people that came for your burial. When I see the dead, I am happy. Happy that finally they can go to rest; rest from this madness and rat race called earth. When I see the dead, there’s nothing much to say than to smile and hope we shall meet someday to part no more (that is if they are in heaven though).

Dedicated to all my friends gone from us into the abyss of a newer dimension never to be explained by mere mortal like us; Rest in Peace peeps!

Oritsebugbemi Michael, Damilola, Mrs Amaka Igwe and to many other friends I have missed! Sleep on.