Memento Mori
It’s been a year now, and I still feel guilty every time I remember it because I was always meant to call. I had been receiving prompts from the Shortcut app on my iPhone to call her, which was weird, but every time I saw her name in my contact list, I always told myself, “I will do it later.”
Later never came.
I came home from school that day and I was sitting in the living room with Daddy. We were watching the news when he got a phone call, I did not know who it was at the time, but I suspect it was one of my uncles. Daddy excused himself after a few moments saying “I’m coming”, he excused himself to the room he shared with Mummy, so I imagined it was a sensitive call and chose not to overthink it.
About two hours passed and Daddy had still not returned. I was feeling sleepy and wanted to shut down for the night. I had only stayed out that long because he had said “I’m coming”. Daddy always indicates whenever he is going in to sleep or whenever he intends to come back. I wanted to imagine that he had fallen asleep, but that was out of character for him. As I debated whether or not to turn in at that moment or to wait for a few more minutes, through a hazy mind and drooping eyelids, I heard his room door open. Before I could jubilate that the decision had been made for me, he told me “Go and call your siblings for me”.
It was midnight and even though my siblings were most likely awake, he had never requested for both of them at once, and not at such a time. I obliged, wondering whether there was something he wanted to slug out with them. My first thought was that he wanted us to pray for someone or something, but that in itself was weird. In the spirit of not burdening myself with matters that were too high for me, I did what I was asked and returned to his room where he and Mummy sat alert on the bed.
Mummy’s being awake indicated that something was up, her bedtime never went beyond 8 p.m. The fact that he’d woken her indicated that my conjecture was right, something was afoot. My siblings sauntered into the room within seconds of themselves and without missing a beat Daddy dropped the bombshell “Your grandmother has passed on”. My world came crashing down like a pack of cards in that moment. I was undone, I was meant to call her last week, and the week before that, and the one before that, but I never did.
The problem is — we think we have time. The problem with the invincibility of mortality is that it makes us comfortable in the fact that we know that the sun will come out tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow. And in an instant, all the tomorrows wherein I had planned to call my Grandmother faded away like inscriptions on the seashore when a fresh wave comes to wipe them away. All my laters went away like a vapour of smoke and reality ground me into a blinding halt, transporting me into a new realm where all the chances of that final phone call being made possible were eliminated.
It’s been a year now, and I still feel like I squandered all my laters.
This is for everyone struggling with a loss in this season. You are not alone. We’re in this together. Call someone you love, and tell them how much you love them now. Later is a risky bargain.
