You have just closed your eyes in sleep — a different kind of sleep, and then you hear someone calling your name and you find yourself slowly slipping to the other side. But you are still hearing your loved ones, raising their voices to a feverish pitch. They are saying something that sounds like an unbroken string of mono syllabic words ; you recognize it as the tongues of angels, the tongues of mystery. This mysterious language is broken up by fierce , passionate singing and deafening clapping: “He has promised he will never fail”, the song goes , but you are going and they still continue praying and singing, singing and praying, voices hoarse, tears streaming down.
But then you go. It is final. You have gone.
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The next day people begin writing on your wall on facebook . Hopefully your privacy status enables them leave a line or two. Some look for old pictures of you and put up on their own facebook wall and they say stuff about you. Just stuff.
Then hurriedly, your family amidst their mind numbing grief go about gathering your photos to send to the printer. For your funeral program. You didn’t have the time to pick out your photos, of course, so they pick out the nicest – in their own opinion. Someone thinks that the one where you wore your youth corper khaki looks nice, so they put it there.
People gather around and talk about you. They remember all sorts of things.
Someone remembers your kiss. She says you plundered her mouth. Someone says they owed you five thousand naira and you forgot to ask for it up until you died. They say it with a relieved sigh. Yet another says that all you cooked in school was beans. That you put dried fish in it, that they can still taste it in their mouth although school was four years ago. They say the most inane things. At least they say something. What if nothing was said?
Some others try to remember more profound things. Some say you had a fine mind, that you were intelligent , that you were ingenuous. It’s all kind of abstract , if you think of it, but you see they have to write on facebook. And so they marshall their thoughts, and try to shrink their perceptions into words. It proves very difficult and so they simply stop trying .
“What are they really thinking?”, you ask. Are they writing what they are thinking and thinking what they are writing? Nobody is answering you, of course. All they can do is write on facebook or in a condolence register.
You give up wondering. You simply cannot know their mind. At least not from where you are. Especially not from where you are.
So you try another angle. You say to yourself, “ I know what I did, who I was and I’ll tell it to myself.”
If you had been a one year old month old for example, you might think, “ I never forgot to smile when my mother left for work in the mornings. I’m sure that helped in brightening her day, and yes, I did remember to cry in moderation when she returned, because after such a hard day, I didn’t want her nerves frazzled!”
If you were a thirteen year old SS1 student, you would think “Well , I tried to help my friends understand lessons better, I didn’t go putting my hands up no girls skirt , I did try to give some of my milk to that poor guy whose parents couldn’t afford anything , and I think I was a good son to my parents.” I think.
If you were a twenty eight year old guy, you may think “Well, I was good to the ladies, treated them with respect and dignity, especially my fiancee, I was honest at work, didn’t try to take any money that wasn’t actually mine. I worked hard to help my mum and dad raise my siblings, and I never forgot to call home even when I was far. I tried to love God. It was hard but I tried. A part of you smirks, but you insist, I tried.
Then you say, “I touched the lives of my friends, I shared everything I had with them , I was loving and cheerful and gracious and forgiving.
If you were a twenty eight year old lady, you say “Ah I refused to degrade my body , or let anyone lay a claim on it because of money, and I didn’t judge my friends. I stayed away from those mind defilers: porn, vile music and trashy literature.
If you were a fourty-five year old woman, you would think “I sent my children to the best schools, was faithful to my husband, was dedicated at church, and yes was good to my staff.
If you were a seventy year old man, which you weren’t but if you were, you would think, I left an inheritance for my children’s children, gave generously to the poor. All that is supposed to make you feel better , but ironically it doesn’t.
Then you exhaust yourself. Enough of the self adulation!
It’s simply not working. You try another angle. You say, “I’ll just forget about trying to convince myself of my legacy or lack thereof”. I’ll leave it to him to tell, but I hope I made him glad”, though all the while you fight a creepy feeling of anxiety.
“Him” is the one you are meeting very shortly, by the way .
”He will be with you in a minute, please have a seat”, they say.
The seat is pure, brilliant gold.
He comes out shortly from his inner chambers and he looks like nothing you’ve ever seen before and grinning like he’s happy to see you, he says, “Welcome thou good and faithful servant!”
You want to pass out in relief, but then you remember that you’ve already passed — on!
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Berry Feistypen @berry
I am Berry. I am Black. BlackBerry. Smart. Sassy. Feisty. Soulful. My writing reflects who I am and whose I am. I'm inspired by God, life, and an on-fours adorable kid.Go to Berry Feistypen's profile, and read more of his/her posts.
Good one blackberry. One good thing about your writing is your ability to surprise your readers with new and dope ideas. Maybe heaven’ll be how good we were not how born again we were. Hope we all ponder on these words. Reminds me of @boomingsols‘s Oh! Pastor. Good one halle berry.
Thanks Jaywriter, I wrote this as a light hearted fantasy for people who grieve and also as a wake up call for us who live. Thanks for taking time to read!
Berry Berry, you could be pinkberry, whiteberry, blueberry, greenberry or even silverberry but you never cease to amaze and entertain.
Read this on fb earlier.
Great!
Thank you Remi- Roy…Thanks a lot…It means a lot that you would read my stuff. I do not take it for granted….and I am Berry! yes that’s me…
:)
Thanks for the message feisty, to think that we wont be judged by our own standards and that He alone holds the final and only important verdict is thought provoking… It puts our life, now and after, at His mercy even if we don’t like the feeling.
Yes indeed, Tee, it’s ultimately his opinion at the end of the day, but we are lucky we have an insight into his mind and he hasn’t left us to flounder…Thanks for reading, I appreciate the goodwill.
nice piece Berry
you have a unique way with words and the way you deploy them
enjoyed this.
Thank you Anderson,I’m glad you love the words…Please don’t stop reading!
of course i wont
if you keep writing.
When i read this, one thing struck my mind – GRACE! ‘it is by grace, not of works, lest any should boast’. That is what we really have to trust in.
Amazing work, Berry. I do admire your creativity.
Thank you Lade, indeed by grace, just that if you truly have tasted the grace, it teaches you that fleeing all ungodliness……..
Thanks for the compliment…God bless u.
Just the same SOULFUL Berry.I love the varieties and techniques that spices ur writing.Its has a way of prying into di subconscious and x-raying the human condition at a particular setting physical and spatial.Deep says it all.Twice as nice!
@Charles…whose trademark is advertising the shirt company! lol…Thanks dear, I’m happy u think the diff varieties and techniques are nice….I am a budding writer and I do feel its too early to box my self so I just write…anything…and see how it goes…I’m still finding myself..
Really felt this…you’ve got a swag for words….nice one….
Thanks Treasured 1 and lol@swag for words….so funny…I’m glad you like…Thank you!
ha..ha…ha certainly not just any shirt company,it has 2 b one in the fashionshow posing 4 paparazzi! I get the nudge.Go Berry go Berry go…
Yep, that’s reight! You gat it! Keep reading!
ha.ha..ha…I get the nudge.Certainly not just any shirt company,it has 2 b one in the fashionshow posing 4 paparazzi!Go Berry go Berry go…
Wow. Very nice ending. That’s what it all boils down to after all.
Thanks @Uche…indeed that’s what the entire struggle’s about. Thanks for reading.
Berry, can I stay in your mind just for a day? I’m sure i would have loads to tap from there.
There’s something about your delivery that just makes you stand out…..
This is the ish!!!
Well done!!!
@Lawal…that’s some pretty high praise..(ur words)!
Thank you so much, and yes u can come into my mind…It’s big enough!
Please don’t stop reading.
FeistyBerry,
I absolutely love the creativity that you brought to this story. The idea of someone speculating about their legacy just after passing on is brilliant, and the way you tell the story makes it more so. And very well written, too. I think this deserves 20 points!
@Tola… a gbo ru en…kilode? wassup? Thanks a lot for reading…and I’m glad you think twas creative…and please those points are needed abeg!
thus would we pass from the earth and its toiling, only remembered by what we have done.
I must confess that I really love this piece. The style is unique and on point. In fact it is nearly perfect. I’m impressed by this Berry, keep it up!
@Scopy…thanks a lot…I’m glad you like…yes indeed…we’ll pass on only to be remembered by the footprints in the sand and hopefully they wont be ones that fade…! I’m glad you find the style unique…Cheers!