Tears | When your heart tears..

It is precisely how I felt last night.
It seemed like a dream. Almost.

“Are you sure?”

I was tempted to ask.
But of course she was. I could see it in her eyes.

You wouldn’t make such a call just like that.

Telling you a friend had just passed.

Just like that..?

I guess it had to happen.. later, rather than sooner.
I was furious.
So this was what it felt like:


I was furious.
More angry and bitter than anything else.
This was simply not fair.

So what was it all about?

The years of being treated disdainfully.
Insulted and emotionally abused.
All the pain and grief.
The patience and the hope.

So much endurance.
But to what aim?

And so, as I sat on the floor of my bathroom, mourning the loss of a friend who counted me her one and only, I turned mad at her stubborness. Angry at her refusal to call it quits when I did. To say “thus far and no further” and embark on a new professional journey. I was mad at the doors that opened for me, and the many that were closed to her. I was furious at a system that did not defend the right of its citizens, its employees, and thus forced them to remain in nearly unbearable situations. I was grateful for the freedom and liberties my system had allowed me to enjoy.


“Yinka, please don’t go.” were her final words to me then.
Now, I struggle to remember the sound of her voice, muffled under silent chokes and marked with visible tears.
“You know, you are my only friend here. What will it be without you?”

I knew she was right. I knew she’d be sad. But I knew I could not remain.
“Leave too. In fact, you need to leave!” I kept saying; although I knew she would not.
“Maybe just one or two more years.” Maybe.
Most probably not.

And so I left.
I left the office.
Leaving behind depression.
My family and friends.

And now, just six months down the line, she has left too.


They say she died of heart failure.
Well, of course that is not true.
I am angry because I know what truly killed her.
But even more than that, I am angry because I am the only one who cares.

I am tempted to read through our recent email-thread.
But I won’t. I can’t. Not just yet.

No real relief for grief.

Now, what point is it praying for the dead?
Grief and pain is for the living; not for those who leave.

And yet, I hope she rests in peace..


One Comment Add yours

  1. 50djohnson says:

    As I was reading this, it broke my heart that your heart was hurting. I hope you don’t mind if I leave a link that might bring some encouragement to you. It’s a poem I wrote about the different kinds of tears we shed. Chemically they are different, which I didn’t know until I did research for this poem. Blessings,Debbie

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