For an uncle who left us 2010-07-10

I always knew that one day Pappa would call and he would use that tone of voice and say,
“Pappa het slegte nuus vandag.”*
And somebody would be gone.

I was jabbering on about my rash. My stupid goddamn rash that had me worried that I was dying. He was quiet. I think I heard him sniff and maybe I knew that something was the matter and so I carried on jabbering until he had to interrupt me.

So many thoughts can be thought in a second.
Inasplitsecond.

Is it my puppy; did she run in front of a car?
It can’t be Mamma or one of the kids because then Dad wouldn’t be able to break the news.
And I saw Ouma just the other day and she was healthy. Please don’t let it be her.
Give me strength.

Not once did I think it might be you.

It serves as a stark reminder that none of us thought to call you, to remind you that we love you.

I wish you didn’t have to be in that dark place. I know what it is like to want to leave and I wish I could have helped you. If but I knew.

You were there when I was christened. You had a keen interest in my music, my karate, my academics. You treated me as though I were a prodigy.
You were convinced that I would be a great doctor.
You said you would stay alive long enough for me to operate on you!!!
I don’t understand.

Just the other day we joked about how you always had your GPS set on some foreign language.
You had a knack for languages, I’m sure.
You were a brilliant musician. A gifted photographer.
I wish I knew you better.

You helped me to buy a camera just the other day.
Two months ago, that’s when I last saw you.
I never replied to the last SMS I sent you. I wish I had known.

The guilt-trip is no use, I know.
But, oh, I know that there have been times that a friendly SMS has lifted a cold blade harmlessly from marble skin.
And while it may not have helped... what if it had?

I don’t even know if I have a photo with you, but for the one when I was three months old and dedicated to the church.

I wanted to show you the photos from my trip. I wanted to let you photograph me, like you always said you wanted to. I wanted to make music for you again like I had when I was younger.

It doesn’t feel like you have left. I cannot imagine that you are no longer here. Perhaps it is a dream. Perhaps it never happened. Out here, without my family, I feel nothing.

Many who love you are angry with you.
They point to people dying of cancer, people who wish to live, and they ask how you could take the decision into your own hands.
What they do not know is that you too suffered a cancer; a cancer that ate at your soul until you did not feel alive. Until the only feeling you knew was pain.

But though I remember how you must have felt...
I still do not understand.

[* "I have bad news today"]