Your death was unprecedented. It came at a time when you already recovered. You cannot be blamed for leaving the church yard—it is normal for any patient to be discharged when he or she feels recovered—and in no way should anyone think the opposite. In fact, if anything, your humanity and solicitude in the storms put you beyond reproach in this scenario. Notwithstanding, if you grant me a personal opinion on the situation, the fact that I am craving for you everyday would dispel my doubts that you left at the right time. You deserved to survive and live to see what your boys become. You didn’t deserve to leave so soon—at least not in that jinxed and unprecedented way. What’s more, we came from a noble background. Your father was a diplomat, a Liberian ambassador to Guinea. He had properties and investments everywhere across the country and he loved you dearly. Throughout the civil wars, he showed that he cared. Grandpa sent us truck loads of food consistently, just so that you did not have to plow the farm. He also sent a troop of soldiers to protect our lives in the village — ironically, how you met the soldier guy. Even when you were battling your misfortune, grandpa’s devotion never wavered. He bordered it on an obsession of care that turned him into a control freak. He always sent you money to receive the best medical care in the country.
As his first daughter, grandpa wanted the best for you. He did everything he could to persuade you to leave the village and further your education in Ghana, but you refused every opportunity. You insisted on living a simple life in the village because of love. At the time, you had a relationship going on with my dad, a poor boy Jack from the other village who you could not afford a second without. Your love for him reigned over vanity and the soldiers had to intimidate him to leave the village. Maybe this was the mistake—chasing out someone who meant the world to you. That was how you ended up in the hands of a coward whose cowardice led to your death.
Yes, mo’ma, grandpa was strict—or harsh depending on the lens through which you looked at him. In the end, grandpa wanted the best not just for you but also for your kids. He loved you with everything he ever had. His love for you was so innate that you could have tapped on it and even lightened his tough posture. But it didn’t appear to you this way. Amorous love invaded your soul, took you up the peak of a slippery hill and it let you fall with no resistance.
Following your death, I regretted seeing your siblings in our village. First of all, where were they when you were grappling with the disease? Second of all, they arrived at your wake in fancy clothes and cars as if they went to attend a concert in the symphony hall. They were the center of attention the entire time. They were so attractive that everyone forgot it was a wake-keeping and focused on them. This saddened me. I grieved because I thought you deserved the last respect, even if they didn’t like you before. As if all the luxuries they brought to manifest their opulence in the village was not enough, your sisters sinked into your bedroom and robbed everything you ever had in it. This brought chills upon me. I wished I had the will to manifest what I was thinking at that moment. Yet, life doesn’t always give us what we want, and sometimes even the most lively thought is still dimmer than the dullest sensation.
But overall, ma’am, you lived the perfect life of a true goddess. Your life teaches us that we cannot always live for ourselves but also for others. That even though life may be all rosy, we can still leave our comfort zones to pursue our true identities, which include freedom and liberty. That we can still find the good in others even when they do not deserve it. That when envy and jealousy surge among people within our circles, we can overcome everything with love, which you defined not in terms of material substance but in terms of pure affection. Considering all these lessons your life has taught us, your memories will live on forever, not just in the hearts of those who lived your days, but also in the hearts of generations to come. For me, a true goddess never dies, she travels to another world and rules over it. So until we meet again, live on!
Authored by Darlington Sehgbean
