Siphiwe-- The gift we are given

On the day do your funeral I was besides myself with grief. I'm not sure if it was for you or for me.

I sat at the church holding in a lot of envy for you. I wanted to trade places. I still envy you. It took everything inside me to walk and nod at my sisters enquisition to my being ok, and not fall apart.

I hate hymns. I hate them because they are not for me. I hate them because I can't utter a sound for you or me or anyone else without breaking, voice first and then a flood of myself pouring out in front of me so that it feels like the world is watching and I'm embarrassing myself. I hate not being able to contain myself.

I don't know where the me I knew went. She seems like a ghost hanging over the stratosphere begging me to off myself so I can join her.

I look at your life and wish that I had known you a little more, spent a little more time watching you live so lively like you did, fighting till the very end. You were indeed a gift but not only to your mother or your family. You were a gift to me to.

The last time we met I had Azola in my belly. It was early days of my pregnancy and you didn't even know. Most people didn't. I know you wanted to meet her. It's hard to believe you're gone. Every time I go on Instagram it feels like I'm going to find your comments on my pictures and I'm going to peruse through your adventures and admire you for your sense of adventure and zest for everything the lord has made.

The lord made You and I am grateful for that. I miss your smile. I miss your laugh. I miss how carefree you were and I miss your beauty.

I love you forever Nkule.