My spirit is hurting...
I feel like asking God a question: why is nature this wicked? Why does nature keep afflicting the already afflicted?
A month ago, I woke up crying and shivering over my dream about Joshua, my late friend. We were in bed chatting and laughing as always. The piquancy of our reconnection after so many years was indescribable. He beamed with smiles so bright and strong, unlike before. He got up from his mattress opposite mine and with such a brimming glamour held me on my shoulders saying: 'Thank you so much for everything.' He then worked towards the wardrobe and backed me to pull his shirt. He turned after with his shirt off, and I suddenly noticed that his belly was still protruded and shiny. He looked as hollow as prior to death.
I sprang up from my mattress in shock. 'Joshua why didn't you tell me you were sick? why? Joshua why?' I questioned in anger and chagrin.
'I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you anymore.' He replied, coming towards me. I pushed him away out of rage and ran outside as tears filled my eyes. I squatted at the door crying. Joshua came out and hugged me. While we were locked up in an embrace, he kept telling me: 'I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'm very to you for everything. God bless you.'
'But you should've told me? You should've told me?' I continued to whisper until I woke up, sobbing and shivering.
It all came to pass. So terribly.
Grace was Joshua's only elder sister. She was the only one who truly understood how close Joshua and I were. She cared for Joshua when he was alive; trekked from places to places collecting local herbs for his sickness. But Sickle Cell wasn't a disease herbal concoctions could cure. She was the one I had whispered to with child-like faith that I would never forget Joshua or their family.
Grace got married two years ago. Grace took in last year, her first. She came back last Christmas to helped me convince and accompany her mum to go with me to the hospital for her eyes. She was with Mama in all her doctor's appointments. She couldn't contain her joy when I opened for Mama a grocery store, and she couldn't believe it wasn't a dream when I shared with her other good things to come, even after they turned real.
No one appreciated my help without suspicion like she did. She was a true believer much like Joshua.
On my subsequent visits after Christmas, I noticed she had become unusually detached, reserved and moody. She always tied her wrapper from above her chest down. But I never had any strong cause to ask questions.
On another visit, she was said to have gone to collect medicine. I asked what for, and Mama said it was just her "normal medicine". I spoke with Grace about it when I got back to the city. She said it wasn't what she would discuss with me; that it was a sickness that could only be treated traditionally. I pushed further but she shut me off. So I knew it was something I needed to sit over with her.
I visited them in the weekend, and Mama tapped at me after some time. She took me to the back of their hut and whispered to me that she was sorry but that there was something I needed to see. She then called Grace. Grace removed her wrapper and the picture above was what I saw, and I couldn't believe my eyes. An advanced stage breast cancer!
Mama said they decided to show me after she bled profusely following a certain herbalist's attempt to syringe out whatever he believed was inside it, and because another village nurse hinted that they should try a hospital.
Grace complained that she was always having severe chest pain but that her gravest concern was that her baby had gradually stopped moving inside of her despite it was her 9th month of pregnancy.
My heart rented apart. I knew the time had gone past to blame anyone for anything. Cancer is a monster that can only be nipped when discovered early enough.
I issued an ultimatum, that the first people I should see on the Monday at the Federal Teaching Hospital Abakaliki should be her and her husband. I had assured her of hope, and that she shouldn't worry about the bill. Then I took shots to show our general surgeon ahead of time.
On that Monday, I saw no one. I called many times but Grace never answered. I travelled back to their home the following week and Mama told me that Grace had gone back with her husband. That he was taking her to a big hospital in Benin City.
It was all I could find out. It was all I could ever know even as I fought hard to withhold my apprehensions. Meanwhile, Grace never picked my calls again.
I just got a call few hours ago that Grace had been under excruciating pains. That she had begun to cough out blood, later entered labour but passed on with the pregnancy before they could get her to a hospital.
Very honestly, I wouldn't say the above tragedy is alien to me. I've seen many similar horror or worse, which is why I am compelled to ask: why is life this vicious? Why is life so unequally unequal? Why?
I've heard a lot of people say that it's wrong to question God. So I won't. But God, let there be a good reason for this anguish. Just let there be, please! And in the end, may it be worth it.
Dear Grace, I saw pain rooted in your eyes. I saw hope pop off your face like air. I saw fear becloud your rigid gaze. But I never knew it was the last time I would see you. It pains me that you saw the glimpse of how better the future could be but you can't partake of it now. I can't stop wishing that I knew of your illness earlier. How I wish you told me. I forgive you though
Often times, I can't do more than believe Jim Morrison, that: 'Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws.'
In your next world, Grace, or wherever, may it never be this constellation of poverty, disease, pain and death. Let it be a paradise of life, joy, health and wealth.
Adieu, Grace!
Adieu, the Unborn.
May your souls rest in peace, amen!
(sobbing)
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