I remember that day like it was yesterday. The day I received the unbelievable news that shattered my world, brought it all crashing down and sent me scrambling for answers that seemed farther away with every step I took. I could swear that my mind had only one thought for so long.
“Why did she have to leave?!”
She didn’t deserve this. I repeatedly told myself as I struggled to blink the tears away. How I hated it when people were so quick to say “I understand how you feel!”
They did not understand. I knew no one understood the pain I felt and how desperate I wanted to numb the feeling.
I held the red roses tighter, as I gave a farewell speech at her funeral. Halfway through, I broke down and walked away, praying that Temi somehow heard those unsaid words. After that, every step I took was tracked by prying suspicious eyes, probably wondering if I was thinking of a thousand ways to die. They did not realize I was past caring anymore.
I will not mince words; I did lose my way for a long time. I struggled with the never-ending questions about life, death, and afterlife. Was she happy? Where was she? Did she have regrets? Could she see how heartbroken I was? Did she blame me for her death?
Perhaps I should explain.
It was my depressed voice that made Temi leave her home so late that night. I think she knew I was way past needing just encouraging words. So she came flying to try to push away my suicidal thoughts whatever way she could.
Her life meant something, much more than mine. People were better because of Temi. She was a blessing to others, and what did she get in return for her efforts? A drunk driver, a screech, a failed brake, glass shattering … and the still form of a friend, sister, mother, and colleague all in one.
It took me years to understand and forgive myself. And try to forget. Heck, I am still years behind on forgetting!
For now, all I can do is to remember fondly and hold the memory of our last conversation, while holding tightly to the red rope I had planned using. The conversation that keeps resurfacing in my mind and makes a world of difference to me, helping me understand that no one matters more than anyone else.
Everyone does matter. I do, and you do too. And just maybe, in our lifetime, we will be lucky enough to meet someone that will believe in us more than we do ourselves and hold our hands through it all, just as Temi did for me. But even if we don’t, we will be alright.
I’ve learnt that life comes with challenges that will push us to our limits. But suicide isn’t the best option because my attempt cost me a dear friend. More importantly, I’ve learnt that bad moments never last forever.
So, yes, I remember. And yes, I know in my heart she is in a better place, smiling and enjoying the gift called laughter; the kind you do not find every day. That rare deep kind-of laughter that tells you in your deepest times “there is a brighter tomorrow to look up to!”
To comment on this, kindly input “admin” as the username and password if a prompt requests for this. This shows for first-time comments only.
Love,
Diane
