Momento Mori
“Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.”
— Mitch Albom.
Val’ s death broke me into tiny shards that hitherto, I didn’t know the human soul could be broken into. I spent days, wailing endlessly, wishing he hadn’t gone so soon, so unannounced; waiting albeit mindlessly, to be informed that the news of his sudden passing was a ruse, an expensive joke that would have made the ongoing Student’s Week unforgettably interesting. It took me a while to accept fate, to accept that my best mate, Val, was indeed no more.
I’ll share my story.
June 2018.
It was Students' Week in school. School was a beehive of activities. My good man, Uchebo Valentine aka "Muscle Man" —a moniker I christened him because of his eccentric and workaholic nature—was scheduled to participate in the FIFA/PES competition that evening.
No one, absolutely no one, could beat Val in FIFA or PES. He was really that good. That evening, I played against him and beat him. As we played, I noticed his eyes were dimly lit, his eye-to-hand coordination was completely off. He overhit his passes and missed sitters. This was unusual for an average player, talkless of Val. Perhaps, a striking sign of what was to come.
At the end of the game, we exchanged handshakes. His hands were frighteningly cold. His face, lull and ashen. Beads of sweat trickled from his forehead. It was an odd sight given the coolness of the night. I distinctly recall asking him if he was okay. In his jocularly-dismissive manner, he played it down and urged me to beat @Yaba, who I was to face in the final.
The final was slated for the next day. I left the game-park to go talk to my then girlfriend. We were in the middle of an intimate moment when I heard raucous, omnious cries coming from my hostel. I hurried to the hostel to find out what might have necessitated such resounding yells at that hour of the night.
On getting to the top floor—where Val's room was located—I met a crowd of people thronged at the entrance, some encircling what appeared to me like a lifeless body. Peering further, I realized it wasn't just any lifeless body, it was Val's lifeless body!
CoCo, a fellow student—who found him sprawled over his doorway— was the one who raised the alarm. His body was cold, just the way his hands were when I earlier shaked him. His lips cracked, with a bit of froth on the sides. His hands lay motionless, just like his other parts. It was the stillest I ever saw him since our paths first crossed in 2014.
I was transfixed at the spot for as long as his body lay there, motionless. I'd never felt so empty, so powerless. I desired a deep, contemplative dialogue with God. He took Val away us, away from me and I needed to know why. Why now? When we were just about to write our final exams that'll qualify us as graduates. Why didn't he take him when he was in 100lv or in Primary 4 or at birth. Why did he have to wait so long? Why at this pivotal stage of his life? Why?!
Val wasn't a rascal, an apostate or a criminal. He was a kind, cheerful and thoughtful 20 yr old kid who never missed church, loved Christ to bits and wouldn't hesitate to give his last dime to a complete stranger. He was an A student as well, and if his death hadn't come so suddenly, he would have graduated with a first class.
Some students opted to pray for him, but at that point, my faith in God, in anything at all, was nonexistent. I called my parents and sobbed like I'd been whipped by a PTSD-stricken Soldier. When they dropped the call, I went to a quiet corner of the school and cried. In hindsight, I believe I cried throughout the night. Hitherto, I had never felt such profound sense of crippling hollowness.
Val's death marked a turning point in my life. It made me fully grasp the meaning behind the numerous profound quotes that speak to the force of death and the devastation it causes in the lives of those who experience it either directly or indirectly. His death made me understand the terrible, paralyzing effects of pain; how crushingly hurting it is, a hurt that, quite frankly, never really goes away.
Continue to rest in peace: Uchebo Valentine aka "Muscle Man"
Love forever, Brother.
