“Jonah, daddy is dead”. With just four words on the phone, my younger brother informed me that our father had moved on. It had been a fast-paced day from collapsing in church in the morning, to resuscitation, admission in one hospital, referral to a teaching hospital, admission in the tertiary care hospital, and death just before 5pm. Lacking the emotional make-up of most humans, the only time I would shed tears would be as I fell to my knees to tell God He would be responsible for funding the burial and I had no intention of burying two parents in one year, as I worried about my mom. Less than thirty minutes after hearing my father was dead, my mind switched to burial planning mode, and I would come to realise that it takes a village to bury their child.
Continue reading “He was Golden”
Jilomes 