The Split Second Change

I bought a tab almost ten years ago. My very first tab and I bought it myself.

So it was a big deal. I treated it like gold. Even though I lived in a safe city, I would put the tab beneath books, safely hidden in a drawer when I go out.

One day, I sat cross-legged on the carpet in my room, going through Facebook on the tab. I probably had dozens of things on my mind as I distractedly scrolled through.

And then, I saw it. A death announcement. A man I had just seen in Church on Sunday. The memory of his smiling face as he watched the drama I had written and directed was still vivid in my mind’s eye. He had looked healthy and fit.

He was involved in a road accident while driving a neighbour to the airport to pick up the neighbour’s child.

My eyes were dry but a gut-wrenching scream echoed in my heart as I brokenly flung my tab away. I heard the tab bounce against my bed-side drawer but I remained glued to the spot.

I prayed I had seen wrong as I began to crawl on all fours to take another look at the announcement. I didn’t register whether or not my precious tab was cracked. My gaze was fixed on the announcement. Staring at me. Confirming the heartbreaking news.

Over the years, I am thankful I haven’t had many of such experiences.

Two years ago, I was inspired to write about the purpose of death after I heard of the sudden and unexpected death of a three year old girl I didn’t know.

Since then, I’ve written posts inspired by deaths by terrorists and careless, selfish politicians.

Now, here I am. 2020 and all it’s unexpected turns and heartrending news.

Now, I write in memory of a young lady I knew. A young lady who would never turn 20 or 25 or 28 or 35.

My eyes are dry but my heart is screaming and at the most unexpected times, my eyes fill with tears. The tears never roll down but remain in my eyes as an uncomfortable reminder that a young lady – a daughter, a sister – is no longer on this side of heaven. A reminder that there are hearts broken more than I can ever understand.

I think about my finances and future. I bring countless prayers before God while reminding Him of His promises but… she won’t get to experience what I have or the things desire.

Her reality is now different from mine. And she’s left behind a family that loved her. A family whose pain I cannot begin to fathom.

When death comes, the most precious things become insignificant. In a split second, everything changes. And just like putting out candles, it could all be over.

It could literally be anyone – me, you, someone you know, someone I know…

So rest on baby girl. Rest on. Rest in peace, health, strength and victory. Rest on. Rest on. We’ll continue to live in hope of what’s to come while you comfortably live the reality of our hope where you are. Rest on till we all meet again.

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In loving memory of Hope Zoe Egwuje 🤍💜🤎

©Ọrẹolúwa Matẹ̀milọ́lá 2020 All Rights Reserved

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