My Gran's funeral was difficult. There were too many emotions running around unguarded, too many vegetables to be chopped and grated, too many elders to cater to, too many children to ensure stay full and warm. But it went off without a hitch.
We sang, we cooked, we cried and we laid to rest a hero.
Gogo would have turned 69 two days ago, but the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. She was the cornerstone of her home. Mkhulu was distraught, his best friend, his arch-enemy, his provider, his washing machine, his stove, his blanket has finished the race before him.
My uncles and aunt were left exposed, their shield had been put down. It's funny how no matter how old you are Mummy is still Mummy and Daddy is still Daddy. It's strange how grief manages to bring people closer together, something happiness rarely achieves. We held each other and tried hard to convince each other that life will go on. It broke my heart to see my family broken, trying hard not to show the cracks. I should let it be known that I come from a family of conquerers, survivors but on Thursdays we call each other heroes. These people don't only weather the storm they welcome it.
The good thing about Gogo's funeral was that I got to see cousins I didn't even know were born and it just drove home the fact of how long it had been since I'd seen my gran. Reminiscent with her life she brought people together, even in death she whispers "hold on to each other"
Lala ngekuthula Sifundza.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Death be not proud
My family received some sad news last week. But before I get to why the news was sad let me provide you with some background information.
I was raised by my aunt, she gave me the awkward "no you're not bleeding to death" "stay away from boys" talks. She taught me the importance of believing in God, of believing in myself, of always favouring humility over arrogance. She defined my perception of all that a woman should be. She led by example, if she'll lecture you about church she was probably in a pew, if she worried that I was watching too much TV, she was likely to be clutching a book, if she was telling me that every girl needs to be able to cook and have one meal as her signature she was probably sprinkling the finishing touches of pepper onto her roasted chicken. What a beautiful woman, what a strong woman, what an annointed woman.
When I was in matric in 2005 my aunt moved out of the house she had called home for 10 years to sow her "tame" oats. She got a job that didn't involve shaping me into a woman of substance, she enjoyed life on her own terms for the first time in a long time. Then last week her mother, my gran, passed away. When someone you love feels pain that same pain cuts you deep. The bottom fell out when she told me the news, more so because she was so strong and seemingly unmoved by it.
She possesses an inner strength that should be distributed to a crowd of people in equal doses, not for one woman to have all that. A few years ago her, her best friend and her best friends family were in a car accident and her best friend died in her hands, battered and bruised as she was her main focus was in protecting the children and not allowing them to think their mother had passed away while they themselves were so weak.
She's had to be so strong for everyone else all her life that tears look foreign on her beautiful face. But just this one time I'm sending a sincere prayer to God to let her cry, to bring her tears forth, to let her grieve, to let her fully experience how I imagine I'd feel if she left. Mother.
I was raised by my aunt, she gave me the awkward "no you're not bleeding to death" "stay away from boys" talks. She taught me the importance of believing in God, of believing in myself, of always favouring humility over arrogance. She defined my perception of all that a woman should be. She led by example, if she'll lecture you about church she was probably in a pew, if she worried that I was watching too much TV, she was likely to be clutching a book, if she was telling me that every girl needs to be able to cook and have one meal as her signature she was probably sprinkling the finishing touches of pepper onto her roasted chicken. What a beautiful woman, what a strong woman, what an annointed woman.
When I was in matric in 2005 my aunt moved out of the house she had called home for 10 years to sow her "tame" oats. She got a job that didn't involve shaping me into a woman of substance, she enjoyed life on her own terms for the first time in a long time. Then last week her mother, my gran, passed away. When someone you love feels pain that same pain cuts you deep. The bottom fell out when she told me the news, more so because she was so strong and seemingly unmoved by it.
She possesses an inner strength that should be distributed to a crowd of people in equal doses, not for one woman to have all that. A few years ago her, her best friend and her best friends family were in a car accident and her best friend died in her hands, battered and bruised as she was her main focus was in protecting the children and not allowing them to think their mother had passed away while they themselves were so weak.
She's had to be so strong for everyone else all her life that tears look foreign on her beautiful face. But just this one time I'm sending a sincere prayer to God to let her cry, to bring her tears forth, to let her grieve, to let her fully experience how I imagine I'd feel if she left. Mother.
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