“One day I will die and unfortunately I will not be there to see my children growing up. They will grow up surrounded by love from their relatives and well wishers. They will even go abroad and favor will shine on them. They will be happy even when I’m gone. “
Mommy said those words to one of her sisters. Of course her sister thought she was crazy and asked her not to prophesy her death. Her sister on the contrary told her,” Racheal, stop this nonsense. If you don’t want to live I will live and I will see my children growing up and even hold my grandchildren.”(she actually has)
You see, mommy foresaw her death. She was that type of woman who kept things to herself too long not to bother others and wore a mask of happiness even when her world was tearing apart. She had this really personal relationship with God. He was her everything. She put everything in His hands. He was her savior and if He couldn’t, no man could.
I would sometimes sneak into her room and find her on her knees crying and praying to God. He was the one I constantly witnessed her sharing with her pain, fears, suffering and victories. She lived for God. She did indeed find comfort in him and introduced God into so many lives while she lived. I swear to you I have not seen any other woman who believed and testified of God like my mother.
Mommy started getting sick and she knew she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t the type to visit a hospital every so often. She loathed medication. She was only armored with faith. She prayed for sick people and they received their healing. True story. She believed she just needed to pray and she would be healed. So she kept on her knees amidst all the pain.
There are times mommy would be working in the company of her sister and she would somehow sit down and zone out for a while and when asked if everything was fine she would say, “yes I’m just tired “ At times we would have guests and she would sneak out of their presence and go lie down in the bedroom. Her body was failing her but she would smile and say God is good and that she was just tired. She didn’t want to worry anyone.
Sure she was always tired but she worked so hard like really hard and I can’t stress that enough. She had a husband and 5 little kids by the age of I think 31 to take care of. Paint the picture of also living in the same compound with her parents-in-law. Wasn’t easy. She didn’t have the luxury of taking afternoon naps or power naps like I do. She was always on the go. She showed up for people in ways beyond understanding.
By the time she gave in to visit a hospital it was a little too late. Cervical cancer had already had its way with her body. Still it was a struggle to take her meds. With it came depression. I don’t even think she had Chemo. It was that late. I can’t for the life of me imagine what she was going through on her hospital bed.
I don’t have too many memories of her being sick. Maybe it’s better that way. She didn’t say. But I remember one early morning I stormed into her bedroom and there was so much blood in a basin. This never left my mind and I never asked her about it. I’ve never even talked about it till now. I just looked at her frail body resting on the bed.
That woman beamed faith and joy even in her ward. She sang with the other patients. She prayed for and with them. Most even said they had never seen such a woman. She gave everyone she met a piece of hers so selflessly. She wasn’t stingy with her God. This God who was soo good to her even in the darkest of her days was always part of her. She introduced Him to other patients. She shared Him. Her concept of God was out of this world.
Believe you me when I tell you, this God, her God was faithful. He gave her a smile even when she had close to no muscle on her bones. She was at peace. Indescribable peace. When He didn’t heal her she wanted to meet Him because it was His will, so she believed. She knew in her heart that it would be well with us. She knew she was going to a place of pure love, a place she would never tire to sing. A safe haven.
You would think I would be angry at my mother for choosing to live her life the way she did but I’m not. If she religiously saw a doctor and took her meds who knows she might have lived longer. But she didn’t. It was her time. I take lessons from her life. I still look up to her even though I just knew her for 9 years. There are things I would definitely do differently than she did, although I see so much of her in me.
Since I started openly talking about her I feel even more connected to her. Some of her teachings still linger in my doings. I feel even more love and compassion for her and I feel so much love from her. I stopped beating myself up for not been able to tell her how much I loved her that last time I sat on her hospital bed. Because I know she knew the tears I shed but denied to her were of love. And I know everything she did was out of love for me and her family.
After bawling and soaking all my tissues down to this last paragraph I chose to celebrate my mother for every tiny thing she did or said out love and hope to do this the rest of my life. I’m sad at times, like this week. It has been like walking by her side. Overwhelming emotions. I definitely miss her a lot but I’m comforted by the fact that she instilled so much good in me that I share with people I meet.
And hey mommy, guess what, It’s been six years since I came to Austria, my second home and life is good.
Ps: 18 years now since you left and you are still missed. Racheal Wairimu you were and still are a bright ⭐️ Till we meet!