Today marks the start of my favourite season in the church. I was in church, seated on the first pew, absorbing the beautiful melody coming from the amazing church choir while the rest of the church went forward to receive the holy communion. We were all gathered to celebrate and observe the Ash Wednesday ritual, and it was already past 7 pm.
I was concerned about the time because I needed to be home before it got really dark— I stay far away from the church and don’t own a car. So I picked up my phone to check the time while still enjoying the beautiful melody from the choir stand. I had missed a call from my friend who expected to hear from me. So I opened my green app to send a quick message. I honestly wish I hadn’t.
I saw a message from another friend. Earlier in the day, I had gotten a message and a call which I had missed from her. The message said, “Sonia, I’m sad”, with a lot of crying emojis (for those who know me as Ekata, Sonia is my first name). I got scared, more because she called after the message. That was unusual, she’s my oldest and closest friend, but we seldom call each other. Something terrible must have happened, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I called back and left a message when she didn’t pick up. So it was natural for me to immediately open her message when I got a response from her. It wasn’t good. My eyes saw something terrible, and I wish I could press control z.
The fact that the Lenten hymns had already softened my insides and gotten me emotional did not make it easy to suppress my tears. Luckily for me, I had my scarf wrapped around my neck like a hijab, so I could cover my face a bit. I wiped the tears as soon as they fell. I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary attention.
“From dust, we came, to dust we shall return.” But dayum! This news hurts; news of our secondary school classmate’s death. I’m again reminded that I could have been her. The next second is not ever assured, but sometimes, we’re just hopeful that death doesn’t pick us. And other times, we’re just arrogant and cocksure we can’t be picked by death because we’re too important to earth.
“We have a father who never fails us.” What about those that die? Do they not share that same heavenly father with you? Does he love you more? You say it is grace, but do these people lack grace? I’m not mad at you or anyone. I am you too. These are the kind of thoughts I can’t help having.
Just like everyone, I’ve lost people— family, friends, classmates, and acquaintances. Of all these losses, two touched my core and shook all of me. One of them was my best friend, the other was an acquaintance. I’ve spoken about losing my best friend in this space before, so I’ll just talk about this acquaintance.
Wendy. Wendy was a beautiful bright girl with a good dress sense. Tall with beautiful long legs, slim and curvy, beautiful face with a beautiful dimpled smile ( I can picture it right now), beautiful brown skin. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. She had star qualities I couldn’t quite put my fingers on. She was popular too, and she seemed to be loved and admired by many. I was a fan.
I saw her first on the stage acting. I couldn’t help seeing the popular Ghanaian actress, Yvonne Nelson, on stage because I saw many similarities. After her performance, I had to find her to compliment her. Those who know me know that I can’t keep compliments to myself; I don’t have to know or like you. Having to hold compliments to myself feels like a death sentence. So, I ensured I looked for her after the show like a fangirl just to inform her that I appreciated her talent. I told her how much I enjoyed her acting and how good she was.
Wendy had a bright future, we were in the same age range, and we attended the same school and church. We had mutual friends, and we were all planning toward our Weekend with the Lord at Ede— a program targeted at improving our spirituality while having fun at it. We weren’t planning to lose anyone, but then it happened; we lost Wendy. It was a rude shock. No one saw it coming, especially as we hadn’t lost anyone recently in our fellowship; not alumni, not current members. We were humbled. I was humbled.
Her death shook me so much that one would think we were best friends, even when we weren’t friends. The only ties we had was our fellowship. I remember not being able to spend the night in my room; I needed to be with one who knew her and could share my grief with me. I couldn’t cross the road for months without my heart racing and thinking of her and death. Cos if death could choose gorgeous Wendy on the road, then who was I?
You know what comforted me after her death? It was the fact that I gave her that compliment before her death despite not having a personal relationship with her. I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself if I hadn’t done that.
Though I do not have a memory of it, I’m certain I complimented her beautiful dimpled smile after my first encounter with her. I’m more certain of it than I am of my Nationality. Whenever I think of her, I’m grateful I gave her her flowers before she left this world.
Wendy was a good one, and I thought she was special. A person as good and special as her wasn’t supposed to leave earth as early as she did. But then she did. Good people die. People with potential die; death doesn’t give two fucks about that. But what is it that keeps us longer than those who left before us? Don’t tell me “grace.” I’m sure you too do not know the answer. The only one who knows is the one who brought us into existence and controls the universe.
I have just displayed arrogance by drafting my thoughts to edit and publish later. If it isn’t arrogance, why else would I act with such confidence when I could easily do all the job now?
Of course, I am God’s favourite in a world containing approximately 7.9 billion people. But what if I’m not as special or “covered” as I think. My late “husband” was special; Wendy was special. Like me, and most people, they probably thought they were God’s favourite too ( this won’t stop me from considering myself as God’s favourite, by the way. It is what makes me stay hopeful on dreary days).
What if this doesn’t see the light of day? What if? I can only hope for my Chi to continue to wrestle against death and keep me from its claws. I can only hope that the universe will object to my elimination because I’m still very much needed. I can only hope that I live to the age where my hairs are grey, and my “skin like meek” become naturally blessed with beautiful wrinkles. May we not be chosen by death. And May the supreme one spare our lives.
Update
I woke up to another day, and guess what! Today is Wendy’s birthday, and I had no idea when I decided to share this today. This can’t be a mere coincidence. Happy posthumous birthday, beautiful soul. We still love you here.