I wish I had stopped and helped you up…

by Bonolo Motsumi

 Upon receiving of the news of your passing, my mind quickly spun in a revolution of memories relived. I tried to look for clues or signs that could have warned me about the seriousness of your illness or that you had little time to live. But with each picture slowly sliding across my closed eyes, I saw no sign of brokenness or severe damage.

Instead, I saw your smile. Your beautiful, sweet smile appeared on every image and with it only came a memory of a warrior who lived her whole life patiently and humbly battling a dreadful disease. Maybe that’s why we missed it.

Maybe that’s why we never saw how near your end was. Simply because you carried your soul with so much dignity and integrity, regardless of its brokenness.

I lament the loss of such a beautiful soul that passed so soon. But I also celebrate the sweet memory of a life well lived in this hard, cruel world that has no mercy on the poor or the ill. I cannot hold back my tears as I can’t help begging time to tick back a little.

 I only need back the three last hours that just passed me by, without telling me of a great sorrow that has befell your family and friends. Maybe if you read this, you would understand that your world was not as dark and empty as you saw it.

Maybe this would change your whole image of life and maybe, just maybe, a lot of things would reverse as well, like your passing.

It was yesterday when I saw your beautiful, lively smile and like always, you were just humbly and beautifully quiet. Little did I know that even when you still walked upright and laughed like nothing was wrong, on this particular day, you were fighting a losing battle.

 We talked a little but I remember well, we never said goodbye. Maybe we saw no necessity to do so but now I lament the loss of that opportunity, the opportunity to caress your cheek and assure you that the road ahead was much comforting and kind, the opportunity to bid you good night.

The world will remember you well for living such a grounded life even though you were haunted by secret, silent demons. When you recited the story of your life to us, we could only imagine how difficult your journey must have been, but nobody could really share your pain and take a piece home to lessen your burden.

Please forgive us.

 Please forgive us for being sympathetic rather than empathetic for you. We didn’t realize that you needed us to be strong instead of being pitiful for you. Beloved friend, please forgive us.

I remember our lives together in an image of a marathon. I remember how the rest of us focused on the race even you fell along the way. I remember how none of us stopped to help you up. I remember how we all wanted to finish the race faster than anyone.

I remember how we were fueled by the cheering crowd to keep on running to claim the victory but now, as I smash this worthless trophy on a rock, I realize how I have lived my whole life hiding you away to avoid the stigma of being associated with a mentally ill person.

Sharp pains strike through my heart as I summon up remembrance of how life would have turned out for us, had I stopped and helped you up. The one second image that I saw almost a mile away when I was two seconds away from jumping over the finish line, is locked in my head. This image pierces my soul deeply and has me wondering if I serve any purpose in life.

 It is the image of a courageous woman who didn't quit the race even when everyone else had finished running. Limping, sweating, she was still walking. Walking towards the finish line we all ran for. The crowd was now watching in sorrow.

 We all wanted to go back and help you but to what would we owe the honour? You made it this far without us and you displayed the greatest quality we never even thought of that day. You displayed courage. Courage to keep going on even when the world thinks you have to give up.

I wish I had stopped and helped you up…

Copyright (c) Bonolo Motsumi

Posted by Teboho Masakala