Ever hear a song playing and it evokes vivid memories? He had two children with her and they didn't have 'their song'. Well, that's his story not mine. Sam and I was one particular Baby Face album. 20 years later I still get goosebumps when i hear that album. It was some experience to cherish. Short and sweet. Our paths drifted and after one and a half decades later I thought to visit and say hi. This note comes with hearing one of those songs.
So I went to Sam's office. It was so very many years later, I wasn't very certain it indeed was. So i courteously asked if this was where Sam's office was. Walls went up. Who are you and what do want? Where are you from? What is your business here? I just want to say hi i said. Higher walls. Why? Who are you to him? Aish! Greetings in our African culture are treasured and this seemed too much effort for me. I dug my heels deep in curiosity than anything else. Plonked myself in a seat and looked at my nails and said I'll wait as long as it takes to say hi to Sam. Hushed voices in short conferences of huddled bodies concluded they need to throw me out... After hearing the truth. Sam had passed on the previous year.
I was then ushered into another office and was introduced to his father. I wasn't over the shock of the news and my profuse apologies to my insistence sounded like gibberish even to me. His father repeated the same news and again inquired of our relationship. I said we were friends. There seemed more to this story and i felt too exhausted to pursue it so a tirade of unrelated stories started to get out of that office. It worked.
Funny, so long after I still feel sad for his family that they were aching, in (shame?), in whatever of their son's death. I'd hate to speculate here what their defensive manner was for, for they know and I don't. My heartfelt wishes of rest to them & I pray everyday that my days alive will not cause harm long after I'm gone to those who love me. That they never need to feel anxious of knocks on their doors. Rest in peace Sam.
So I went to Sam's office. It was so very many years later, I wasn't very certain it indeed was. So i courteously asked if this was where Sam's office was. Walls went up. Who are you and what do want? Where are you from? What is your business here? I just want to say hi i said. Higher walls. Why? Who are you to him? Aish! Greetings in our African culture are treasured and this seemed too much effort for me. I dug my heels deep in curiosity than anything else. Plonked myself in a seat and looked at my nails and said I'll wait as long as it takes to say hi to Sam. Hushed voices in short conferences of huddled bodies concluded they need to throw me out... After hearing the truth. Sam had passed on the previous year.
I was then ushered into another office and was introduced to his father. I wasn't over the shock of the news and my profuse apologies to my insistence sounded like gibberish even to me. His father repeated the same news and again inquired of our relationship. I said we were friends. There seemed more to this story and i felt too exhausted to pursue it so a tirade of unrelated stories started to get out of that office. It worked.
Funny, so long after I still feel sad for his family that they were aching, in (shame?), in whatever of their son's death. I'd hate to speculate here what their defensive manner was for, for they know and I don't. My heartfelt wishes of rest to them & I pray everyday that my days alive will not cause harm long after I'm gone to those who love me. That they never need to feel anxious of knocks on their doors. Rest in peace Sam.
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