What does death mean to me?

The first ever experience I had of someone dying was when my best friend at the time, Tunde, died when we were young. He had pneumonia (I can’t forget). One day Tunde & I were playing as we usually would, minding our business, doing kids stuff. We were maybe 7 years old at the time. The next day, he was sick and had to be taken to the hospital. A couple of days later he was dead. At the time it never made sense to me how he could just be.. dead. All I know was that we couldn’t play together anymore, and I couldn’t visit them at home. I was just supposed to move on and act like nothing happened, even though every once in a while I can’t stop thinking about him, and what the case may have been if he didn’t die, or why a child like him even had to die at all.

The other real experience I had was when my grandma died. I could see the effort my dad was making to break the news to my mum. How my mum immediately started crying afterwards. She couldn’t stop. I was there, not understanding what just happened, yet I tried to console her. I couldn’t feel her pain because I wasn’t so close to grandma, but I could see what the pain did to her, and how it took a while to get over it, even though I’m not sure she totally did. I don’t know if anyone ever totally does.

I once had a near death experience myself when I was younger. I almost drowned in a pool. Till today I don’t know how I survived it, neither have I ever mentioned it to my parents. I was scared of swimming as a result. Scared of even getting into any type of water for the longest time until I decided to learn how to swim. I’m still far from a perfect swimmer, very far, and I still get bouts of fear right before I enter into any pool, but I’m a long way from where I was.

Even though it seems most silly to most people I mention it to, one of the saddest times of my life last year was when I lost my dog, Bella. It was the one that hit most close to home, especially considering that she was just over 2 years and it wasn’t a natural death. We were so close. I cried like a baby. I was a terrible sight. I just couldn’t stop. At the same time, I couldn’t understand why I was crying. I even wrote a letter to her here. You may want to read it.

Over time till today, almost every day now, there’s news about someone dying. It may be a celebrity today, a regular person, or a friend tomorrow. It’s even been worse since COVID happened, claiming millions of lives, followed by the terrible state of insecurity in Nigeria. The worst part is you can’t really avoid it because it just happens. You can’t particularly prepare for it.

You may be gisting with someone today, and tomorrow you just hear they are dead. Just like that. No explanations given. No reasons. Worst part of it is that you’re expected to just be okay with it because they have gone to a better place, or because they’re at rest now, or because they’re flowers in heaven, or some other silly things people say. I think it’s also why I never know how to console people going through grief, since I can’t ever make sense of it.

One of my biggest fears in life is dying, or losing a loved one, most especially family. Even as I type now and think about it, the fear of it happening cripples my fingers. Makes my entire body heavy. And then sometimes I think, “Why am I scared tho?” Why should something that happens so often make me scared? How can something so inevitable scare me? Do people ever get used to it? Do people even have to die? So many questions.

I know Christians are not supposed to be scared of death because we’re going to be with the father and all, but does that really make it less scary? I think the best part of eternity with Christ is knowing that you get to live forever in peace, no death, no struggles. That’s a good sight, yeah? So what scares me? I ask myself sometimes.

I think I’m more scared about the aftermath than the process. It’s more about what happens after. By what happens after, I don’t mean going to hell. As a believer, I have my faith rooted in the sacrifice of Christ and that dying means being with the father. Even though I sometimes wish you didn’t have to die for that to happen. Lol. So then what’s scary about the aftermath?

I’m scared about how it may affect my loved ones. Most especially parents and siblings. I can’t even bear thinking about it. Tufiakwa.

I fear that I may not have made as much impact as I would have loved to.

I fear that I may just be another wind passing by, yet disappearing almost immediately after.

I fear that people may never really know me before it happens, yet after it happens they would all claim to have been best friends.

I fear that a simple mistake I made or one person’s view about me (which may be false), may be the only thing people want to hear after it all happens.

I fear that everyone will move on so quickly like they always have with other people. Yet, I fear that some people may never move on.

Sometimes in my lowest points and biggest moments of doubt, I fear that it may just be silence, nothing after, just ceasing to exist. And then I’m reminded of God’s promises, of his hope for a better life after, else this one will be just meaningless.

Most of all, I’m scared that I may have never gotten to live life.

You see, deep beneath all of this fear is one single desire. TO LIVE. I want to live so much that I’m scared to die. I want to live so long to smell all my flowers, all my roses while I’m still here. I want to have made so much impact that my name rings on, even if it’s in the minds of some people. I want to travel, without bounds, to experience new cultures everyday. I want to eat. Omo. I love food. I want to eat so many things and everything.

And mostly, I want to love and be loved. I want to fully experience this love in all it’s fullness, not held back or diminished, not in bits and pieces, not bright today and fading away tomorrow. I want to love and be loved completely. I want to spend my time with people that really do matter, be there for family and friends. After all, love and community is what gives life meaning.

It’s why I don’t like being alone. It’s also why I don’t like wasting time. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt about life, it’s that one day you have it, one day you don’t. All you can do is enjoy every single moment you have like it’s your last, rather than stay scared.

So back to the initial question. What does death mean to me? To be honest I don’t know. What I do know is what life means to me. And I choose to live it for as long as I can (which is hopefully for a very long, happy time). So help me God!

P.S.: “Pneumonia” is a lung inflammation caused by a bacterial or viral infection. It can be life-threatening, most especially to children and elderly people.

“Tufiakwa” is an Nigerian word/slang which means “God forbid”.

“Omo” is a Nigerian slang used to express surprise or being drowned in emotions.