Authored by: Edith Mukyala (Uganda, East Africa)
But I was wrong. Some two hours later we were sent to get his body from the mortuary…sign his death certificate. It was all happening. They were now calling him a body! He wasn’t living anymore.
His parents were worn out! They couldn’t comprehend anything anymore. His death was so sudden! He was fine until he had stopped talking and the machines couldn’t stop beeping. The doctor had said it was a clot. He claimed that clots happened when blood thickens and sticks together. That it could be a good thing when that prevented bleeding but not so much when it formed inside the blood vessels. Sometimes, one could travel to the lungs. This was called a Pulmonary Embolism (PE), and it was life-threatening when it blocked normal blood flow. While a clot could form after any type of procedure, one was more likely to get it if they had undergone major surgery.
Funny, right? Cancer didn’t kill him! A simple clot did! The doctors had not been in time to detect it or get it out. They hadn’t seen it coming.
From that fateful day until now, I can’t clearly explain to you how the days went by. I can’t explain to you the way I felt as I watched his body laid in a casket—the pain in his parents’ eyes. I can’t explain to you how it felt watching him lowered. All I remember is I wanted to go 6 feet down with him.
My dreams had been shattered. My life had been ripped apart.
I wore his ring throughout the rest of my university. I never dated! I was too busy getting good grades so that he watched me from heaven and remained proud of me! I stayed the good girl he wanted me to be. At every end of the month, I would go to his village and lay a wreath by his grave. I would have one-end conversations and somehow knew exactly what he would have said back.
It’s been nine years down the road. I have learned to be happy but not the happiness I had with him. It’s different but ok.
I still celebrate his life on his birthday. I still go visit his parents. They are happy I moved on and always take in my children for the weekends. They are part of us! I still love them because they loved me first.
My boyfriend had taught me what true love was and I remain forever grateful.
Rest in peace, Mark. You were too good for this world. I love you.