Tribute to a beautiful Soul (I’m in Pain)

She was such a beautiful person. I remember all the times she made me laugh. Aba was her name and she was very special. A woman with a heart. I remember being happy with her and sometimes upset and unhappy with her. I remember times when I didn’t particularly enjoy what she did but she was just still Aba. Her niece, little Adobea called her Auntie Ama, ever so affectionately Auntie Ama. Now, although I can’t fathom it Adobea is probably all grown up now and a woman but Auntie Ama is no more. Gone too soon and so quickly, Auntie Ama, never to hold the child she so desperately yearned to hold, Auntie Ama, never to smile at the sunrise and tease me for my foolishness, gone so soon Auntie Ama.

On Sunday afternoon I received some really sad news that someone I love and respect and adore so much had passed away. My first question was, “did she suffer?” I had heard about a month ago through my aunt that she was not well. She had breast cancer and was in hospital. I shook when I first heard that she was ill because Ghana doesn’t really know how to deal with cancer, at least not yet. I was afraid so I knew it was only a matter of time. I prayed but as I remember it was just a mumbling and jumbling of words because frankly I felt quite helpless.

I knew her as sister Aba. She was the wife of my Aunt’s husband’s nephew’s wife. It seems like a long long connection but to me it wasn’t long at all she was family. Her husband served as driver for his uncle and we all lived together during my high school days in the same house. She made me laugh, that’s the best thing about her. Anyone who brings the gift of laughter to me I don’t take lightly at all and my heart is so heavy right now just reminiscing. I remember, one night eating Ampesi with Kontomire with her and she just cracking me up so much. Everything she said sent gyrating pulses into my body that created helpless laughter. I remember her complimenting me on the things I did and sharing her admiration of me for doing things as little as washing my own clothes.

The news is devastating and I found myself crying helplessly as I drove to the evening service on Sunday. My tears weren’t fueled so much by the death as it was by the injustice I felt she had endured. Somehow, I feel everyone at some point in this life needs a little break; we may not deserve it, but certainly need it. A break, something I felt Aba didn’t have and the more I think about it the more I tear up. She wanted so much for a child of her own and I remember many a time praying about it but it wasn’t to be but goodness do we do anything to deserve some of these bitter pills?

Couldn’t she have had a little break? So young and without the one thing she hoped for. Here I go again, crying. Ah Ah Ah Ebeyi. So unfair, so so very unfair. Lord a little more time. A little more time to dance, a little more time to be ok with what she couldn’t have but could live without and to allow me to hear her laugh again. I cry and cry but come with nothing besides the ever so present “perhapses”.

Perhaps, you wanted her to rest from the pain, perhaps like Hannah but in a different way you desired her fruitfulness in other capacities. How do I deal with this and be ok with this. It hurts so much. I cry not because of the death because death we can’t run from but the glaring injustice tortures me. Perhaps I am not even close to being as ok as I thought I was after all…