Death oh Death, where is your Sting?

You see, Charles Bukeko’s death caught me thinking. My highlight of his send-off being that he died in his car for lack of admission in the Karen hospital. That bit, just torn me apart. Papa was an international brand and that’s no fact to debate about. However, death couldn’t respect this. Death couldn’t even respect the hospital space when he died at the parking lot, to even give him a chance of admission. This I say because, somehow sometimes, I have gone to the hospital or taken my daughter there critically ill but as soon as she gets there, at that weird hour, she starts playing and her fever suddenly goes down. I’m then left with the work of trying to convince the doc that my daughter is really sick. I don’t know how that sickness ‘smells’ the hospital compound, but somehow it does. So, I expected at least death would somehow do the same. Or so I thought. Probably covid 19 cases just got the hospital jammed up with no space left for this critically ill pop star. Or fate dint just allow him spend a penny there on medical expenses, so we are blaming no one on this. Whatever the case, death knocked, came in and claimed its right. I call it ’right’ because it is soon coming to you and me, - when the time is right.

At over 95 years, my grandpa was ready for it. His time had come. Over 95 because his Id was a guesswork of the date of birth something his surviving sibling attested to. And good timing because he died peacefully. I vividly remember this fateful early July morning because we were all home except for my mom who was at work. At work though, she was never at ease, she was troubled. Can you imagine after being released 2oclock and arriving home past 6pm, a distance of 10minutes or so without doing any specific thing on the way- no shopping, no walking, no nothing. In fact, all she did was leave work for home. I remember this because we waited to go with her at the mortuary for that long till we decided to go without her. At least for my sister, she was somehow prepared. She had seen him in his worst 2days ago. However, a new normal of stability had kicked in. For my dad though, it was such a hard morning. Unsettled – yes, but confused as well. He would go attend to him 2 minutes then go outside to attend to another chick that was having trouble feeding. At the end, both the chic and his father, my grandpa, passed on. You see, it must be painful for him because he died nursing him, with a peaceful smile of peace and accomplishment. I actually have wondered over time how he knew he was dead because personally, I went to his room some 15 minutes later after he had confirmed with a neighbour uncle of mine that he had passed on and funny enough, I was in dis- belief because he was still warm.

Enough of him though, my grandma on the other hand was a very cheerful, generous and hardworking lady whose sickness couldn’t deprive her of going to her shamba. “Who will do this if I don’t?” she would ask. Did I say she loved her hubby? She actually loved him even in their old age- it was a mutual feeling actually because I remember grandpa-her hubby, shedding a tear at the funeral. At her deathbed, she had suffered. So much so that death was so inevitable. The hospital could not help and so they left her at the hands of her caregivers- my mother and father. That fateful day though, almost all her neighbouring children had paid her visit and some even saw death coming. She was really in pain. She was in bad shape. No food would enter her mouth, no water, yet she vomited all time round. This time round, the last encounter with her was with my mother. She had taken a compulsory leave or is it sick leave? –to attend to her. She says that my grandma, her mother, send her out telling her to go rest she had had a long night and morning, as she felt she was getting better. Sure enough, she looked way better compared to the last few days. My aunt comes and says she needs to see her mother, and my mother is shocked to know that her mother is no more when my aunt asks why she is not conversing with her anymore. She had left us too. I knew she was not doing well, but still I was not convinced she had gone. However, she was in so much pain that I acknowledged death sort of did her justice.

These instances remind me that there is one day when we shall ask death, “death, where is your sting?” You see even at Bethany Mary and Martha’s home, Jesus seemed four days late after his friend, their brother died. Truth of the matter though, he was still on time. And what gladdens my heart even more is the fact that on that resurrection morning, it will be such a big event for him to give death a second chance. He will actually be in time. He shall call our loved ones in pride and they that died in the lord’s side see eternal light and life while the rest eternal destruction after going before the judge for judgement and proclaiming with their own mouth that surely, he is a just God!

Truth of the matter, no one gets used to death and its in that

matter that I just can’t wait to ask death “death oh death, where is your sting?”

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