Of Two Men and Grief

Sunday, the 25^th day of June 2017 has proved to be in-erasable from my memory with an almost 100% remembrance of everything that happened. First, it’s the day my Dad breathed his last breathe at the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) at Komarock Modern Hospital in Utawala Nairobi. Secondly, which is very key to this article, because fate brought together two men who were totally broken down by life’s circumstances and were ready to run to Timbuktu and back would it help make their circumstances better.

At about mid night, I noticed a man sitting at the lounge of the Hospital with a pretty little girl in his arms. The girl was now crying and seemed to be in so much pain. It then occurred to me that I had actually been staring at them for quite a while now; only that it had not registered in my mind until the girl started crying. Then I realized I had been lost in sorrow and thoughts about my Dad who had just passed on about three hours earlier.

We had done all we could by transferring him from Kijabe Hospital to Utawala about 9 hours earlier. I had rode with him in the ambulance for about 85KM at a neck breaking speed and helplessly watched as the attendants tirelessly did what they do best in such circumstances. A few hours at the High Dependency Unit (HDU) with Dad at Kijabe Hospital had helped me acquaint myself with some key medical terms mostly used in the HDU and ICU. This had helped me strike a somewhat tense conversation with the attendant about Dad’s progress.

The ambulance had arrived at the hospital (to our relief) barely before the attendant had answered my third question which I highly suspect had been similar to the first two. Dad had been admitted at the ICU and a majority of my family had come to share some pleasant moments with him, really doing our best to be all positive in the midst of despair (apparently because people in a coma can still hear conversations close-by) up until 7pm when we had left the ward. We had been called about 3 hours later with the information that Dad had passed on.

On viewing and touching the very warm but lifeless body, I remember shading gallons of tears uncontrollably but that was it. The curtains had fallen on the man I called Dad and he was gone, it was not a dream. The body was before my naked eyes.

Come on, I was meant to be talking about……let us call him Allan. I stared at Allan as he fed the young girl in his arms but still preoccupied with the above thoughts about earlier events of the day. My tears were still rolling in full defiance of my desire to stay sober for my family. The body was just due to be taken for preservation once the morgue van arrived.

This young girl’s cry woke me up to the present and for a second I wondered why she was crying and what they were doing there at that time then it occurred to me we were in a hospital. Allan’s facial expressions communicated this sharp frequent pain every time the girl screamed. He literally seemed to feel the pain the girl felt. After feeding her he now started to swing her gently on his lap probably hoping that a few hours’ sleep would relieve her off some pain.

As I faced my very own fresh grief, I wondered what was going through Allan’s mind. There was not so much difference with where I had been hours before we met. What was he thinking……As he fed her. As he not only felt her pain but also expressed it through his face. As he desperately tried to get her to sleep. What was in his mind? Did he feel the weight of the situation like I had felt earlier? Was it too much for him like it almost crushed me down? So much crossed my mind in a very short time.

Finally! The girl seemed to be relieved off some pain as she started dozing off. In a short and concise meeting in my head I debated on what I could do for Allan to help out. After arriving at a conclusion I stood up from my seat, made for where Allan was sitting and sat next to him. We exchanged greetings and our eyes met; He paused for a few seconds as we maintained the eye contact.

In an even deeper voice than the greetings’, he relayed his condolences. I quickly acknowledged and strategically shifted the topic by asking about the young girl in his arms. He stared at her and told me she was his daughter and that she was sick (I can't seem to remember the condition). We had a conversation for a few minutes and I learnt that he had to juggle between a job during the day and taking care of the young beauty during the night. From the conversation I could estimate Allan’s age to be about 35 years. He also had this ‘macho’ eye contact conspicuously evident in 35-year old males who know their thing.

We ended up with each other’s arm on our shoulders praying together and broke down in the midst of the prayer. We uncontrollably let the tears flow as we held on to the last source of hope in our lives; God. We called on to Him for various reasons; we didn’t know what to do in both of our situations, and even if we did, it had proven to be too much for us. This was a scene of two strange men crying together. Men who knew nothing about each other until about an hour earlier. Faced with almost similar yet totally different challenges, we resorted to literally cry out our hearts to God.

After the prayers we quickly exchanged pleasantries and wished each other the best as I hurried away, the morgue van had arrived ready to take my Dad’s body to be preserved. Coming back to the lounge Allan was not there. I wished I had taken his number before I left. My family and I left the hospital at about 1:30 am but I thought about Allan all through. In the midst of the challenges he showed what true fatherhood is by living it. I had lost a father and here was a man fighting against all odds to see his daughter live through the scare of ill health.

Allan is the epitome of fatherhood, the definition of a providing and selflessly sacrificial father. A man who finds pride in the higher calling of fatherhood. A man who fulfills the role, hence worthy of the title. I saw in Allan a genuine desperation that directs some of  us (men) to God when we are faced with situations that are beyond our control. Sadly, this can only happen to the few who actually understand that they can depend on a Higher authority; that they need to call on God. Allan, as we have called you here, I really hope your daughter is well and that one day we shall meet. Baraka (Bessings).

Celebrating Our Fathers

What comes into your mind when you hear the term FATHER? Well, probably I should rhetorically ask of the meaning you have of this term. Do you loathe or hold any memories dear regarding this line of thought?

To some it evokes mixed feelings; anger, rage, bitterness, rejection, betrayal. Others relate differently to the mention of this term; love, compassion, provision, security etc. Yet again others are filled with anxiety, curiosity and what ifs.

Today I chose to stand with and celebrate the Fathers whose mention reminds their loved ones and the society of unconditional love, selflessness, compassion, provision etc.. Fathers who've fought against all odds to be the best to their wives, children and the society at large. Gladly in the midst of a fallen world overwhelmed with fatherlessness left, right and center, there are men who can stand and be counted as Fathers. 

Today I celebrate those men who have given up their nyama choma meetings at their favorite joints to go watch their 4 year olds graduate from baby class or take their sons for lower primary soccer tournaments. It may not make sense but if that's you. I salute you Sir. I celebrate the men who've decided not to send their wives to represent them in school on Parent's Day. The men who spend sleepless nights praying for their family. The men who show their daughters what true womanhood is by loving them unconditionally. 

The men whose sons can proudly say they are their heroes and men who are first loves to their daughters. The men who wake up daily and tarmac to and from industries because a son awaits food at the end of the day. I celebrate dad's who are not just ATM machines but best friends to their wives and children. 

I celebrate you who above material assets, have realized that real values taught to your children is the best inheritance to them. I celebrate men who are not only fathers to their children but to their wives as well. The men who spend hours helping out with homework. The men who pretend to be full yet want your children to have their fill. I celebrate the men who look out for the unfathered children next door. 

I celebrate fathers who embrace their responsibility with joy. Those men who in the midst of challenges have looked into the eyes of their wives and children and told them; It is okay even when they didn't know what they would do to make things better. I celebrate fathers who genuinely kneel before the Almighty God to cry out their hearts for their wives, children and the society. The Fathers who choose to stay in their homes for the sake of their children despite of irreconcilable differences in the home. My prayer is that you will discover how easily reconcilable those differences are before God. 

Thank you for staying. I celebrate all the above fathers though the list is endless. If for one reason or another you feel you've been inadequate to your wife and children I still celebrate you. Start today and commit the whole of you to your family, they're the only ones you have and you are the only earthly father they have. I pray that God will continue lifting you for the sake of your family for His glory. 

I am reminded of your struggles of manhood and fatherhood. The struggles you have had to face every day to remain relevant to your family. I can boldly tell you that God understands you better than all of us. He (GOD), will make things work. He will help you.

I dare tell you that the position of fatherhood (whether with a biological child or not) is a stepping stone to a world of infinite opportunities to be a blessing to your family and the society. 

The Blessings are yours.

#InzoberiMunio