My Dear James

It’s been a while we spoke, it’s not that I didn’t want to write nor could I find the time to but the truth is, it’s hard.

Everyone walks around trying desperately to avoid mentioning you. I want to be angry with them but I can’t blame them cos talking about you is hard.

I still imagine you’re in med school away for the longest of times and dream of the conversations we would have when you get back. Then I wake up; and it’s hard to stay awake cos I still want to go back to sleep and talk to you.

I made some bad decisions this year and I’m so sure you would have talked me out of every single one. You were my conscience, the voice that curbed my excesses and always talked me down from whatever ledge I was standing on. I want to blame you for my bad decisions but it’s hard to do that.

The memories are fading and no matter how hard I try I can’t hold on to them. It’s like with each year some memory disappears and I can’t seem to separate the imagined from reality. Remembering is hard but the fear of forgetting is harder.

One thing I can’t forget is your love for music. I listen to the songs you loved and imagine us singing together, I can hear your distinct tenor. Remember ‘So Far Away’ by Staind? No one gets why I cry whenever I’m singing your songs, even though they are upbeat rock songs. They don’t understand that your songs are the last connections I have to you.

I dedicate this to you on the anniversary of your death. Sleep well my sweet brother for you will always be in my heart. No matter how hard it is to remember, I will never forget. 

Those bastards will rot in hell for depriving you of a full life.

Love always. Your big sis.

The Overflowing

I came home one hot Saturday afternoon dripping from head to toe after much haggling and lugging my heavy load from the market, my patience had been tested and pushed to its limit but thankfully I was able to hold my cool.

I dropped off my things and headed straight for the fridge to pick up the cold bottle of coke I had left before leaving for the market but it wasn’t there. I could feel my face heating up and annoyance boiling in my chest. I walked to the staircase and just as I was about to shout at the top of my voice “Who took my coke from the fridge?” I saw my brother in the living room holding on to my precious chilled bottle of coke, taunting me.

The little rascal turned it into a game of kick the coke. By the time I got a hold of it, I opened the bottle without much thought and the contents flew everywhere.

I snapped and responded on impulse by kicking the scoundrel a little over 3 times and flung the erupting bottle in my blind rage. “This was all your fault you ninny. Next time when you see what belongs to me you’ll leave it be”, I screamed. Walking outside to get a mop to clean up the mess further compounded by my tantrum, I kicked and shouted at my poor puppy who came wagging its unassuming tail looking for a back rub. (Timing dude).

After cleaning up the mess, I held the empty bottle of coke in my hands and analyzed my actions.

I was an ass. And the kicking and screaming was uncalled for but what’s done is done.

I apologized to my brother and went back to pat my puppy. Humans are less forgiving than animals. While my puppy couldn’t recall my outburst, my brother did and still does. What a mess. I wasn’t pissed about the coke upon deeper reflection, but my outburst was borne out of suppressed annoyances I had swallowed throughout the day and probably the week.

We sometimes slip into blind rage sometimes and if we dig deep we will find that the situation didn’t always warrant the explosion. My explosive anger is a lot like the overflowing bottle of coke whose explosion comes by turning the cap ever so slightly open.