Every time the sting of death strikes, I can't help but wonder, Why does it leave us so empty and broken? Why do some never recover from the impact of losing a loved one? Is it because death seems like a far-fetched hoax up until it afflicts closer home and reality dawns on us? I believe not. After all, the reality of death is ever with us. "You will surely die", is a certainty from the Almighty since antiquity.
Yet, if everyone knows that at some point in time we must graciously 'bow out', why then do we still grieve relentlessly and mourn inconsolably? I opine that our collective pain when we lose our loved ones stems from death's apparent and unbridled arrogance - this faceless monster launches its assault when least expected.
Death is such a killer joy. It robs away a young couple of the warmth of marital bliss; a newborn, the irreplaceable pleasure of maternal care; a dare-devil, the thrill of holding the world record; a hard worker, the rewards of their sweat and blood; an audience, the iridescent humour of a thespian; a country, the glorious recognition due to an athlete's prowess.
Death is no respecter of persons. It favours neither the most accomplished nor the least recognized. It doesn't skip the most learned or give concessions to the least travelled. At its untimely unravelling, every soul must bow down to pay homage saying, "You are king."
Death is a heartless and diabolical monster whose favourite hobby is 'injecting' pain and misery to maintain a sadistic smirk on its face. Its greed is insatiable and its thirst is unquenchable. Its arsenal of weapons is not static but dynamic - ever unleashing the choicest ways to inflict irreparable damage in our families and communities. Death probably gets a dopamine rush when it strikes and uh-oh, in a moment, coalesced dreams and hopes evanesce into insignificance.
Our fury and vitriol towards death is not tantamount to misplaced energy. It is justified. After all, though depraved our human frame is, we somewhat agree that the blows of death are usually unjust. Or why would this intruder specialize in taking away the 'best' from us? You see, for a moment, we are tempted to play the role of God. We wonder, "Why should the 'wicked' live long and die peacefully while the 'innocent' perish in grisly accidents or are devastated by incurable and irreversible ailments? If indeed there's One who is omniscient and omnipotent, why doesn't He avert this seemingly unchecked madness?"
I am persuaded that it is this kind of tension that prompted C.S Lewis to aptly say, "Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolation of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand." Sometimes, and rightly fathomable, not even the consolations of religion can ease one's pain.
Yet, though we helplessly observe our dearest kith and kin waste away due to a ravaging disease, we won't curse loudly or apostatize readily. Though we find ourselves burying kindred in unparalleled quick succession, we won't cow down on account of death's utter actuality and brazen absurdity.
We who are still alive have a choice to make. We must never assent to living aimlessly as those without hope. Instead, we must pursue our dreams with intent and order lives full of content; we must love deeply and care genuinely; we must invest aggressively and accumulate wealth appropriately. We must correct our mistakes promptly and let go of grudges readily.
Though we live in the shadow of death, may our lives radiate beams of joy evidencing our untold contentment. Though the measure of our days remains beyond our purview, may we find satisfaction in serving, fulfilment in giving and enlightenment in seeking the Almighty's purpose for our existence.
To all those who are grieving and mourning their departed loved ones, it is well, it will be well. May we calmly and expectantly wait for the day when death will finally be swallowed up by triumphant Life; then we'll join Apostle Paul in asking, "Death, who got the last word, oh, Death? Oh, Death, who's afraid of you now?"
In loving memory of Davis Mwangi Kamau. Till we meet again.
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