Mum Breathes Her Last

The Swahili people of East Africa have a proverb that says, "Hayawi, hayawi huwa. (What has not happened will eventually happen.)" Well, my mother, who has been suffering from the effects of stroke, diabetes, hypertension and heart disease, died yesterday morning from cardiac arrest.

Dad called me out of my sleep at around 3.50am yesterday to go check on our ailing Mum. When I entered their bedroom, I found her lying flat on the bed. Looking as if in deep slumber, she tried breathing and then became motionless. Something about her gesture told me she had probably passed away but I didn't say it. Instead, I performed CPR (cardio-pulmonary resuscitation) on her.

With Mum's condition not improving, Dad frantically phoned my brothers Joe, Bob and Paddy to inform them of her illness. Paddy, who is a doctor, ordered an ambulance to come to our home. Bob phoned Pascaline, a lovable neighbor who likes flashing a beatific smile at people, and requested her to go fetch Mum in her car.

As we waited for help to come, I longed to go back to my bed, not to sleep but to talk to God and process Mum's possible death. But I projected an attitude of concern for Mum and stayed by her side.

Pascaline's car would have been helpful if Mum could sit. But the problem was, she wasn't talking and moving her limbs, possibly dead in my estimation. So only an ambulance could help.

The ambulance finally arrived with two or three health-care professionals. I could tell they, too, thought Mum was dead but they were kind enough not to say it. They instead took a sample of her blood to check her sugar levels, wheeled her into the ambulance and drove her to hospital.

No sooner was Mum in the ambulance than I went back to my room and collapsed on the bed. And I stayed in bed for hours. I skipped my usual routine of reading the newspaper, taking breakfast, showering and drinking water. You can't just lose your Mum and behave as if everything is hunky-dory.

While I lay in bed, my mind flashed back to the events of the previous day when Mum went to our farm to relax and supervise farming activities. I remembered how she had phoned me from where she was on the farm and asked me to close the door of our mansion. Her phone call touched me so deeply that I resolved to love whoever she loved and probably hate whoever she hated. Little did I know that that would be her last day on earth.

I felt terribly grief-stricken to think that the Mum who had talked to me less than 24 hours before was now probably dead. And when it reached noon and I heard someone drive into the compound of our home, I sprang out of bed to check who had come. It was my brother Bob.

Bob confirmed to me what I had expected - that Mum was dead and gone. I felt like sobbing but tried appearing strong. Later on, we were joined by our brothers Joe and Paddy.

Unlike me, my brothers looked relaxed and composed, something which surprised me. They freely talked about Mum's last moments without shedding a tear. And Paddy let me know that he could take me to the mortuary to view Mum's lifeless body.

The news of Mum's untimely death spread in our home-area like wildfire. A number of neighbours came to offer us their condolences. Their kindness and concern for us impressed me.

One of the neighbours, a lady named Mrs. Masibo, recounted how she had heard that Mum had gone to the farm the previous day. I agreed with what she said and then I added that less than 24 hours before, Mum had phoned Dad to inquire where he was. The tone of my voice probably revealed my sadness but I was quick to express hope that I shall meet Mum again.

All the same, I am still terribly grief-stricken to lose the woman who gave me life. Hardly can I believe that I am now motherless. I will no longer have someone to wish me journey mercies and Christ's blessings when I am heading to my hometown of Kiserian for my evening exercises.

In an effort to calm my depressed and grief-stricken soul, I am seeking solace from these words of Job: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I shall depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised." (Job 1:21-22)

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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed the above story on Mum's death, you might also enjoy another one on "A Mother to be Honored" which I wrote two years ago. Just click on that link in blue to dive straight into the story.