Another One Bites The Dust

It happened again, this time it was so unexpected, I wasn't ready for it, but who is these days and I could say the occurrence is getting more rampant than anything else. And sometimes when I walk, I feel this eerie presence and I guess perhaps it might be time for me to seek help, but I can't, mustn't, will not unless of course "these" symtoms continue.
I still seat around recounting my last memories, the jokes and roast of her and I don't recall a "doll moment" all I see is happy smiles, laughs, silly little notelets, and I guess that is how I would like to be remembered when my time comes as the girl that was always bubbly and very jovial, full of life and just a blessing to be around. It hit me hard, perhaps maybe harder than I care to admit and for the first few days, I prayed it was a miscommunication, I prayed that it was someone else, and I just avoided everything that would lead me to "truth". But then truth came, and I tried to say it, but it wouldn't come off my tongue, it stayed in my head and I just started repeating it to myself, over and over….and it hasn't seem to totally stick. I think about it everytime, when am about to wash my face, when am about to close the door at night, its like the thought of her pulls me back tells me, its true, am gone…but ehhhhh.
Every song, every stupid joke, even the damn bloody free dailies I got remind me that its true, as we were created from dust, we shall all return to dust. I wasn't too close to her, but I grew up with her, from the days we walked home together, to running into her at my sister's school which later became my school, and going back to see her after school was over, and even spending time with her, its just surprising that I'll never get to see her again. Another woman down, a million of us to go, its like we're matching towards an unknown destination and at every unexpected point, another one of us is bound to fall.
When I go I hope my friends will all get drunk and sing green bottles standing on the wall…….
"and if 1 green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be one less green bottle standing on the wall…"

RIP Babes, I'll miss you, and weddings will never be the same without you around.

And then I decided to take the subway home last night, I stood waiting for the train, wondering what death is like, why are we so afraid of it, why does it haunt us so much, am I being followed by death, is my time very near and I do not know it, the light of the train drew close, I saw the sign "stand back from the yellow line", the light stopped moving, it was a station short of reaching me, and I wondered how fast could the train go, why does it kill on impact, at what point do you die, when the train smashes you or after you hit the floor and the tracks makes art with your flesh and blood. Is it painful, how painful. If you die a painful death does your soul re-construct as it leaves your body. Is it possible to be alive yet dead at the same time.
The light started to move, my brain calculated faster. If I jumped to the other side of the platform just as the train is about to hit the station, will I make it, or will I fall under the tracks. If I lie flat under the tracks will it kill me, I heard the train…If I jump now, will I feel the pain, what else is there in life if every good person whom I have no memory of sadness is dead, maybe its my sign to go, to just do it.
Hey Jude starts playing on my mp3 player, the train was close now, I could see it moving slowly, my body, slowly moving towards the yellow light, me thinking "if it is an accident does that make it right"
Paul McCarthy sang: "And any time you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain Don't carry the world upon your shoulders"
Sure I won't the world can take care of itself without me, and I will know what death is all about…and for a moment, I thought about jumping, the world went dark around me and I could feel "them" around me gently whispering, No, No, No, No, and on the other side…"just do it, you'll like it" and then Sir Paul sang to me: "You're waiting for someone to perform with" and that was the defining moment when I stopped and let the train go muttering "thank you".
Am not ready yet

(UNTITLED)

The first time it happened, I was 10 I think, no I was 9 going on 10, we were in class and the next thing we knew, they called her to the principal's office that she was needed at home. Word on the street was that her father was travelling abroad and wanted to see her before he left....(and so they drove from Enugu to Iwo just for that.) Anyways, she was gone for a month, people speculated, but she came back eventually, but she was never the same.
Those that knew, shared what had happened, and we were all ok with that, we respected her privacy and didn't do anything funny. Some nights she would start screaming, some days we would all be playing and then people would run up and down the quadrangle, and Aunty Ngozi would appear with Sister, and she would grab on to their legs and wail, and with pity in our eyes we would watch them as they would drag her to the matron's room. Those were days that were bad, on good days when we realized that we were reminiscing about home too much we would stop.
The next time I remember it happening, it was the holidays, I think it was easter break, my cousin and I were usually the first ones to leave school, but then we were about the last ones, we knew our parents remembered it was going home day, my aunt eventually showed up just when we dragged our grumpie selves to the dinning room. We were too excited we left our plates in the cooking area, jumped on her and asked her what the heck took her so long. When she told us, we were sober for a few minutes, all I could picture was a little girl leaning on a young boy with bulgy eyes and of course the baby was being carried by the older man, just the way I had seen them at the wedding a few years back....
Each time I hear/see/meet people who have lost their mothers in one way or another, I get chills, before I thought the older you get the easier it is to accept these tragedies but that is not true, when I was younger my mum was a tyrant, Osama Bin Mummy, mean, didn't listen to a thing, would just slap you around at the slightest excuse, and then I remember all those other lovely times when my mum would carry me when I fell, seat by me when I was sick, be in the car to pick me up from school. The smell of her perfume on school grounds on sad sappy days when the world just seems gloom and no teachers were willing to teach. The little things.
As I'm growing older though I'm coming to realize that the longer people stay in our lives the more we miss them when they are gone, and in these trying times, I can't help but think about my aunt, the way she laughed a lot, the way she talked, her cute face, the make up that always seemed to be the same color as her outfits and always suited her. The way she called us baby, and always wanted to be Nigerian, her lovely christmas trees and the way she said Children, there's a lot of things I'll miss about her, and to think that just before the incidence happened she flashed through my mind and I thought of calling her up, I should have. May her soul rest in peace, she will trully be missed, and I saw someone that looked like her today, she was pretty, confident, always laughing, so full of life and she robbed off on people, she was the best. :)
Cherish those around you, you never know when they'll leave and never come back and you'll just sit there watching their coffins go 6 feet underground, soon to be food to worms and you'll never get to talk to them again, all these lovely conversations that you wish you had with them will linger in your head and you'll just wonder, why now? Why God? What am I supposed to do?

May we all have no regrets