A sting. Liquid metal. A cold drenched feeling took over me as I pictured my entrails wailing in chemical unrest. My mother came in, saw my dirty hands and the broken remote…then she…
No. That’s not the story I want to tell you today. Let’s talk a bit about death. Given the abrupt circumstances with which she visits, I will be ..well… brief.
Prince died. I didn’t enjoy his music. Many, many humans did.
Music lost Papa Wemba as well. Right on stage! I didn’t enjoy his music either. It is said he was an African icon. I believe those two wonderful artists would be truly missed by those who knew, cared and loved them.
May their souls, and countless others who die each day, some as you read this, rest in peace.
Now, I have issues with these deaths- the media coverage AND the outlandish expression of sorrow/affection/ quasi-affectation that now seems to be omnipresent thanks to social media and the digital age.
Here’s my problem: forget the stars. Forget the icons. Forget the national heroes. Take “Joshua”. He’s your friend. You grew up together and went to school together. You dodged classes together. You were there when his heart first got broken and he was there the time you got drunk and made a fool out of yourself.
Fast forward 10 years. You’re both working. Joshua runs a fledgling startup. You have a very demanding job. You both have kids. You don’t see each other as often. Sometimes, you pick your phone and you just want to chat with your buddy.
Then you think to yourself: “Why should I be the one to call? It’s not like I am the only one who should miss him!”
So, you never call. Joshua has the same mental soliloquy.
Then, one day, Joshua’s wife calls you. Joshua is no longer of this realm.
Your eyes well up with tears. You wish you’d called him. That you’d given him some money to bootstrap the company. That you’d offered him that old car you weren’t using so often.
You wish you were back in high school with Joshua.
Now, we both know where I am heading to with this.
Prince, the world will miss you. Same for you Daddy Wemba. But before you splurge my timeline with how much you will miss those who are gone ( I wonder why no one wrote about them this much when they were alive), take up your phone and call a “Joshua”.
Mom, Dad, sibling, friend, spouse, colleague, buddy.
Send him/her a tweet. Give ’em a Skype call. Send a snap.
Don’t wait till death, my friend.
P.S: I should take my own advice. I think this is the earnest reason why I write. I have so much to improve that the only way I can remind myself to do it, is to write about it. You may have noticed the “entrepreneurship” tinge here and there. I am working on a venture which requires a lot of guts and a lot of patience. The past months have NOT been peachy. But writing about these things gets a lot in perspective for me. It’s a sort of therapy because I still believe I need professional help. So far, I haven’t gone down the streets naked. So, we’re good.
Thanks for being here…Joshua. :)