“Children
are the crowning glory of the aged”
Proverbs
17:6
That verse brings to life the special bond I had with my grandmother; I was her beloved and she mine. My first vivid memory of her is she picking me from kindergarten and we would take the short walk back home together hand in hand. On one of those early afternoons, I refused to hold her hand telling her I didn't approve of the improvised string of cloth she had around her gomesi (dress) as opposed to a proper kitambala (sash). She was obviously amused by my reaction for instead of telling me off, my comment humoured her. Over the years she fondly told this story on days no end about me being a snob and how she ensured she looked her very best from then on. She told this story in so many versions and used it as an example for all us to ensure we always looked representable and ready for whatever task came our way.
As I processed the loss, I was a bag of mixed emotions, the most important
being the certainty of our love for each other. As I relived some of the
memories I was glad that she was free from the pain that had characterized the
last leg of her life and that in so many ways had stopped her from truly
living. A devout catholic, she prayed and twisted the rosary beads like her
life depended on it, I would tease her and make funny faces as she knelt and
prayed but that never detoured her from communicating to her maker. She always
made a party of the annual Martyrs’ day, it was her special pilgrimage and it
was sad that when Pope Francis visited Uganda in June 2017, in spite of having
secured her a VIP ticket she was yet again too sick to attend.
She liked to turn up and even on the hospital bed, I always teased that the
patient looked a ton too healthy. Her favorite accessory was a mirror and
rarely did I see her grey hair. She was happiest when gifted with clothes or
cosmetics. On my 2nd last visit, just like her she protested that I had not
brought her perfume. In hindsight I had not thought it a priority for someone
who was bedridden half the time, but I should have known better.
My grief is made easier by all my family members who affirm that ours was a
friendship to envy. And in the words of my sister, who over the years decided
she was more my grandmother than anyone else...
“Joey, take comfort in the knowledge that you were greatly love by your
grandmother she wasn’t ashamed to show it, express it or even tell it to
whoever cared to listen. I personally choose to remember her as a person who
loved outdoors and parties.”
And steal the party she did, I laughed silly when I heard from my mum that on her death bed she was on edge - not simply because of the pain but because she got anxious about dying during a pandemic. She was distraught, concerned mainly on the issue of not having enough people to give her a send-off. I'm sure she was smiling on the other side as I hear it was quite the well-deserved celebration for her 88 years on earth.
Her going has emphasized to me, that no matter how old someone is, or how much
you want them to be free from their pain, even with the assurance of heaven,
you can never truly be ready to say goodbye. The good book has many variations
of painting the reality of life and death to us and at times like this, it pays
to lean on its reassuring words. 2Corinthians 5:8 Yes, we are of good courage,
and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.