Seven Years On, You Are still Remembered
The day was 2nd October 2008. I was still in high school. My mother came to see me. Actually what happened was that I was called to the 'admin block'. This was not s visiting day so I found it rather odd that my mother was in school to see me. I reached out for a hug, and after the short embrace I realized she had a pained look in her eyes.
I had to ask what the matter was. We were with our school chaplain and so my mother kept asking, "Do I tell her here or do we wait till we are in the office...?" "Tell me what...?" I asked. My mother began with "Cucu..." I did not need to wait to know what she would say next. Tears filled my mother's eyes and I knew.
My grandmother, as Joel Osteen likes to put it, had gone to be with the Lord. I could not believe it! My grandmother was gone? How? Yes, she was sick, but I had seen her the past weekend. She was seated in her usual seat, and she was happy to see me. How was it now that she was gone? I felt my heart break into a million pieces and my tears flowed freely. Everything from how I was able to be signed out from school and allowed a 'leave out' is all a blur. I do, however remember asking how she passed. And as we drove we reminisced about the good times we spent with her.
We drove to my grandfather's house. I could not now call it Cucu's house like I used to, because it was just her spirit who was watching over us. The tears had stopped flowing, and I thought I was okay. Up until I met one of my aunties at the entrance to the house and I broke down once she held me in her arms. She let me cry. I wet her coat with my tears, but she did not mind. I had lost my only grandmother. She did not need to worry about laundry at this moment. I was finally able to clam down and she let me get inside the house.
I did not 'eulogise' my grandmother. I cannot really explain why, but I was not able to. I figure what I would have come up with would not have been befitting of her memory. I also would have probably broken down mid sentence and would have had to have someone read the tribute I would have written.
Today I remember Cucu as a very organised, hardworking lady. Even in her old age she tilled the farm and kept cows for their milk. She was a silent investor, because we never really got to know how much property she had until she passed on. She also invested in people. Everyone in 'ocha' knew her, and you could tell the impact she had just by the number of people that came daily to give their pole, as well as those who attended the funeral.
You would never go to Cucu's and not find something to eat. Even if it were githeri (succotash), ndengu, rice, cabbage,you name it! You would never go hungry as long as you were under her roof. And there was always a tray full of eggs in the pantry. Oh yes, Cucu had it down like that! I learnt to have a heart to give from her. She was so generous. She opened her home to everyone, and that is why her absence in the world was felt not only by we who are related to her, but also those whose lives she touched just by being there.
I do not know if she knew how much I loved her. This is because I never really did tell her outrightly that I did. Perhaps my actions showed that I did, but sometimes an express action is better than an implied one. When she went to be with the Lord is when I realized that I should always tell those that I love that I love them, because the next minute, the next second is not guaranteed.
I remember when I would go sleep over at her house, she would make me a cup of 'Drinking chocolate'. And if my cousins were there too, it was like a mini party. The hot chocolate she made for us before we went to sleep was something she made just because. We did not ask. In fact, we would not ask. She did not have to go out of her way to make us comfortable, but she did.
Cucu had dentures. So after she removed them, she would come and say goodnight to us once we had tucked ourselves in bed. Oh my! That was the scariest yet funniest sight! She would bid us goodnight every night we slept over at her house.
Cucu always started her prayers with" Twakucokeria ngatho Mwathani...". This translates to "We give you thanks and praise Dear Father..." I miss that introduction in her prayers because Guka has his own style of beginning his prayers. It's different every time.
Today the tears do not flow as freely as they used to. They are there, but they do not drop. This is a sign, not that Cucu has left our hearts, but the pain of losing her is subsiding. We push forward each day knowing that she would not want us to mourn her and stand still, but she would love it if we celebrated her life, and touched lives in the same way she did if not more.
Rest in peace Cucu. We really do miss you.
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