If you missed part 1, check it out here.
27th March, 2016. Easter sunday. About 8pm
It had been a really interesting day. From the house to the police sation then back home and later to the station again (an ‘unmerry’ go round). After all the moving around, the effort of recounting the story over and over, drawing a mental list of suspects and eliminating the unlikely individuals, everyone was bone-tired. That afternoon was spent sleeping (sweet, sweet rest) and by evening a good dinner was all we wanted.
We were in the kitchen when the phone rang. My mum’s phone. The caller was a relative, a very jovial uncle. I picked up, ready for the usual teasing and laughs, in fact I was smiling already. He asked for my mum (no jokes today? I guess not every day is teasing day). I handed the phone to its owner and took over as she made her way out of the kitchen to answer the call properly. My focus was solely on the steaming pot of food before me, little did I know that that call was going to change the course of the next few days for me (and a lifetime for some). When my sister rushed into the kitchen looking worried I didnt panic immeiately, I think God made my panic button selectively sensitive, sometimes, its so hard to trigger it. ” Something has happened, mummy is crying” she said, “what could be wrong this time” I thought, the dust had not even settled over the theft issue yet. I went with my sister to investigate and found my mum with her hands on her head (when you see a person adopt this posture, then something is really really wrong) and she was ‘wailing’ (not crying). “What happened”? I inquired (still calm, at least ouwardly) “Mr ……. is dead” she replied. The first emotion I felt was intense shock, then disbelief, then nothing. I couldnt even cry like my mum and my sister were doing. My uncle, dead? I saw him the day before, I had joked with him about what present I was going to get him for his next birthday, he had joked, telling me that I was no longer his friend and now they were saying he had just passed. It seemed impossible. So unexpected, like the thief in the night.
We ate thoughtfully that evening, each of us unable to fully grasp the magnitude of this shocking news. My uncle had gone to church that morning happy and strong, he had attended his neice’s s birthday party later that day, he had climbed up the stairs to his room by himself that evening, he had chatted with his wife and then told her he wanted dinner and in the few minutes it took her to get to the kitchen and back, he had passed. And we were all left in shock and disbelief. Was it really happening?
His son said to me some days back “this is my father’s house, and all this is his property, but he cant take it with him. I thought about it, how true. The death of our bodies is the inevitable end for all mankind, the only thing is we aren’t informed in advance (I know there are exceptions but usually, we aren’t). This incident reaffirmed to me how fragile our lives really are. In a microsecond everything could change. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you see it) all the earthly things we struggle so hard to acquire, become inconsequential eventually and what really matters is a choice we made here, the choice of who to serve, God or yourself.
I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
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