All my friends are dead…
These are the lyrics to some hip hop song that was popular on the radio a few months ago. Honestly, I am not sure whose song it is and did not bother to look it up. I just know I needed these lyrics for the purpose of this blog. I dreaded hearing the song because I was on the brink of being the friends that was dead. Having time to sit with death and being absent from the body takes a great deal of courage and strength. A type of courage and strength many would run from were they given the choice.
Over the weekend, I lost a friend that battled with the same illness that I did. He looked death in the face a year and a half longer than I did. He guided me through the beginning stages of my journey. He showed me how to stay in love with God and with people in the midst of the wilderness. As I sit with death and as I sit with an unrelenting amount of survivor’s remorse, I am compelled. I am compelled to live on. I am compelled to honor my friend. I am compelled to make change and be change in all the ways that I can. I sit with the idea of second life, not after life, but this second earthly life that I now have.
There’s a scripture in the bible that speaks of letting the dead bury the dead. Essentially there were lives that still needed to be touched with the good news. I understand this concept but want to bring it into the context of Afrikan spirituality by saying; Let the dead bury the dead and let our ancestors lead our way. In this season, I want my life to represent death to the old me and life anew with my lessons, teachings and a message of everyday miracles being manifested.
Gratefully, all my friends aren’t dead. Ancestors keep showing my what the deal is and what I have to do to assist in keeping souls on the planet.
All my friends aren’t dead.
