Yesterday, I lost another (second this year) dear family member. An Aunt.
The day before, I got emotionally shuffled.
I guess I just flared up. The pain and anger were locked up somewhere inside of me. I was mad at everything at the same time. It was weakening and stressful. I was losing strength and I had no control over it.
My Aunt, the one I’m staying with in Nassarawa, wanted to eat pounded yam. I was making soup when the help came and told me that the yam was done. I asked her not to bring the yam down yet as I was trying to finish something I was doing with the soup. When I went out to meet her, I found that she had brought the yam down and drained it of the water. The yam was dry and hard. I was even madder but I managed to pull strength to pound.
When the first round was done, I asked her to leave the rest for me. I pounded till my blisters bled. I pounded even when my hands hurt from the bleeding blisters and my brain screamed for me to stop. There were tears in my eyes when I finished, tears in my eyes and less pain in my heart.
I finally understand why people box when they are angry, sad or confused. Pushing all that negative energy into something is really refreshing, I tell you.
When I was done, I had time to reflect. I told myself that death is not an end in itself, but a means to an end. She died at peace. The least I can do is make sure my life honors her legacy. And then I mustered enough strength to take the first step to make peace with my emotions.
At the end, the blisters brought healing and peace where there was painful rage.