Mothers

Our first Christmas without Lesley. This pic was taken at home in Sosha, after a good cry Mama and I had that afternoon. 

You know, some of us grew up with mothers who just made everything okay. I have vivid memories of some of our darkest times as a family. But for some reason, hearing Mama's voice informed me that we wouldn't be in the dark for much longer. I also know her strength from the conversations we never had. I observed her experiences. She just never let go in all the many different challenges I saw her overcome. So she became my safety net for when I fall for a long time and I felt safe knowing I vould refuel my life from.her love.
But the pain of losing the love of your life, is a pain not even a mother understands. Her presence makes the whole experience much more difficult becasue she too is experiencing pain. Lesley was her son. And he was my husband. This is the first time  I saw Mama let go. She let her pain be seen and she acknowledged it. It made itself felt with tears even months after Les left us. God knows how many times I abandoned my grief to reassure her I'd be okay. But the truth is you don't heal completely. It's still early days. Mama's pain hurts me even more. Lesley! What have you done!?

Holding it in

It's that time of the year. Happy times all round. And you know, social media makes it so easy to share these great moments with everyone. I expected that I would have fallen apart by now from grief and wishing my Lesley was here with me. When the moment to fall apart comes, I embrace it. I don't induce it because of my well-known fear of drowning in depression. I have been sharing my pain and this journey since Lesley's passing. For many reasons, I chose to share this story. But I found myself stopping myself for a while. Especially now. Forced myself into private mourning and learning the difference between being alone and feeling lonely. Yes, we are all going through different difficulties and must express them. For some odd reason though, I felt public mourning and expression of grief would be selfish. It's difficult to absorb all the happiness trending on my timeline. Even when I create a happy environment for myself, it's certainly a mechanism to float so no one ever has to leave their party to come rescue me. In all the times I dressed up and posed for pictures, it was just another plan I came up with just to survive. I found peace in holding it in. And it is the way to go from now on. Nothing I do can ever fill this gap. So whatever I do from now on, is either to survive or going the direction of a new path with full of things unknown to me.

Early morning thoughts

There are mornings where I wake disappointed because I am alive. Classic sign of depression I guess and it is expected considering the amount of shock and trauma I am going through. Time does not heal, but it intensifies the pain and make you realise that death is final. It's much harder for people like me who love being in control and having the power to influence or change a situation.

The temptation for people in my situation is despair. Especially now during the festive season. But it's easier to acknowledge the difficulties of being lonely at this time, while trying to cultivate some inner peace so we survive the days ahead. Back when my grief was fresh, I never thought I'd enjoy the small, ordinary events of life. I do now. Family and friends, birds singing and watching the blue skies turn grey. Looking out the window during a storm and walking the dog. They give me a good feeling.

There is really no happiness, but I do experience moments of joy. It comes from the hard work we do trying to survive in the midst of this piercing overriding loss. It's still too soon to relax and begin to trust life again, but at least  I know that's what needs to happen. 

Through memory, love transcends the limits of time and offers hope and courage to carry on to the next day. Not always easy to see the lesson as I've said, sometimes I wish I could die and not experience this pain that you must sometimes smile or make people feel good while you are carrying it. Almost like learning to walk again. I don't know how to be without the love of my life. It was also important to acknowledge that we can medicate as much as we want, but the only way to survive is to be present in the moment of grief. People medicate differently. Some seek validation and pity from others, while some try replace what's lost. Most take prescription for their doctors. I have tried avoid all of the above, but I will label my situation as "surviving".

 May your beautiful soul rest in peace Lesley. I miss you motho wa ka! 

Insomnia

For a long time I missed that husband whose affection I'd soaked in through my pores and never consciously returned, accepting it as my natural reward. I missed him in that way you never know you'll miss someone who has always been with you till they're gone. Now, when I'm alone sometimes, I feel he's with me. - An extract from the book Insomnia by Aamer Hussein 

Pain and Romance

I have been talking a lot about you and not writing so much about how I feel. I have been a bit desperate for feedback and some opinion on my view of the world. Nothing has been the same. Sometimes I suspect even food taste different to when we would sit next to each other and share a meal. It is really difficult to come here and write about you from a position of power and not that of a victim that everyone must feel sorry for.  My latest conversation conversation about you was with Rev. Siza Lugojolo. The man who presided at your funeral. Our whatsapp messages are always intense because he always goes for the truths I am sometimes not ready to hear. Almost the same way you would just address the elephant in the room when everyone is comfortable in discomfort. It's another affirmation that you probably live through people who love and care for me. It still does not mitigate the injustice which is your death or the constant pain triggered by everything we used to do together. I still run into you even in my new routine. But Ihave graduated from being the "cry-er" to someone who knows when not to break down. Not always easy, but it has certainly gotten better. Rev. Siza gave me a whole lesson on learning to live beyond death of a spouse. It really made think on whether grief makes us romanticise pain so much that we want to do the things that preserve the pain and not walking towards healing. Part of the said healing to me, means leaving you behind. "Marriage ends in death. There are no marriages in heaven," Siza told me. He further said that Jesus answered this question when he was asked about a woman who married seven men who all died before her. "Moving on" is justified in the Bible. But I don't think there is any piece of writing that will make me feel whole again. Am I romanticising pain? I know your answer would be No because you knew better than anyone how I hate pity.  I wish the were timelines to how long this pain would last. But I have realised that unconventional ways are the only ways to get through each day. The planned methods have never worked. I miss you.

Giving what I don't have

When one big part of your life falls apart, it's a battle to fill the gaping hole. But because we are alive and want to survive, we do all sorts of things to survive or do anything that helps ease the pain. All of these things are temporary solutions, you run from one temporary solution to another. It's activity you almost get addicted to because you'd be under the impression that you are dealing with your pain and sometimes anger. 

Under normal circumstances, people do a lot of different things to escape their day-to-day stress. It might be reading a book, going on holiday or collecting art and so on. We can safely call it, escapism. My whole life is now dedicated to finding escapism. Sometimes in the form of human beings; friends and lately a possible romantic partner. Everything else that used to be escapism involved my late husband. Books, travel, spending time with the kids, wine and dinning and going out dancing. He was there with me. Our friends were a treat to spend time with, because we are all so busy. 

But lately they are my source of strength and I am beginning to slip out of their amazing and constant show of love and compassion. I am deliberately slipping out of this comfort zone so I can make sense of my new normal. On my way out, I found a new friend and we’re now looking at whether or not we can be more. It's another temporary solution to my loneliness. On the face of it, that's what it looks like. It is a selfish thing to do. I still want to hold on to Les, but I also enjoy being with someone willing to come into my life at a time like this. The logical thing is to reject and do what everyone else does. "Deal with my grief". But luckily, I am not everybody. It's a choice between facing this alone and doing this with someone who won't be fazed my trips to the cemetery, pictures of Les everywhere and talking about him every now and then. I mean, this is enough to send anyone packing. But this individual wants all of that. Yuck! I know I would not even go anywhere near someone who’s just lost their partner. Especially when it's well known it was the love of their life. He is also someone who could be with anyone he wanted to be with. At the moment his choice is me and all my baggage. Very unpopular with the conservatives in my life. But no one knows what I am going through and how I'd like to go about it. I don't want to accept or reject anything because of anyone other than myself. I am strong enough to try things out and fail without falling apart all over again. If I lost the love of my life and still standing, there's nothing that can break me. I am already giving away what I don't have because I have nothing much to lose. Although it's important to be fair to myself and everyone close to me. Especially this brave man. 

This whole thing is crazy because on the morning of the 8th of July this year, Lesley and I were putting final touches to our future. It was going to be outside Gauteng Province and possibly outside the country. But here am I, seeking to band aid on a bullet wound. Four months ago, he was here. I am damaged goods that someone else wants. Damaged in a sense that I was in a forever arrangement with my husband. Now I have to reboot a system that was never meant for an upgrade. Do I even have it in me to give companionship to anyone else who is not Lesley? I won't say no, but I am not confident about that. Simply because it can't be the same as the last time I did this. When one big part of your life falls apart, it's a battle to fill the gaping hole. But because we are alive and want to survive, we do all sorts of things to survive or do anything that helps ease the pain. All of these things are temporary solutions, you run from one temporary solution to another. It's activity you almost get addicted to because you'd be under the impression that you are dealing with your pain and sometimes anger. 

Under normal circumstances, people do a lot of different things to escape their day-to-day stress. It might be reading a book, going on holiday or collecting art and so on. We can safely call it, escapism. My whole life is now dedicated to finding escapism. Sometimes in the form of human beings; friends and lately a possible romantic partner. Everything else that used to be escapism involved my late husband. Books, travel, spending time with the kids, wine and dinning and going out dancing. He was there with me. Our friends were a treat to spend time with, because we are all so busy. 

But lately they are my source of strength and I am beginning to slip out of their amazing and constant show of love and compassion. I am deliberately slipping out of this comfort zone so I can make sense of my new normal. On my way out, I found a new friend and we’re now looking at whether or not we can be more. It's another temporary solution to my loneliness. On the face of it, that's what it looks like. It is a selfish thing to do. I still want to hold on to Les, but I also enjoy being with someone willing to come into my life at a time like this. The logical thing is to reject and do what everyone else does. "Deal with my grief". But luckily, I am not everybody. It's a choice between facing this alone and doing this with someone who won't be fazed my trips to the cemetery, pictures of Les everywhere and talking about him every now and then. I mean, this is enough to send anyone packing. But this individual wants all of that. Yuck! I know I would not even go anywhere near someone who’s just lost their partner. Especially when it's well known it was the love of their life. He is also someone who could be with anyone he wanted to be with. At the moment his choice is me and all my baggage. Very unpopular with the conservatives in my life. But no one knows what I am going through and how I'd like to go about it. I don't want to accept or reject anything because of anyone other than myself. I am strong enough to try things out and fail without falling apart all over again. If I lost the love of my life and still standing, there's nothing that can break me. I am already giving away what I don't have because I have nothing much to lose. Although it's important to be fair to myself and everyone close to me. Especially this brave man. 

This whole this is crazy because on the morning of the 8th of July this year, Lesley and I were putting final touches to our future. It was going to be outside Gauteng Province and possibly outside the country. But here am I, seeking to band aid on a bullet wound. Four months ago, he was here. I am damaged goods that someone else wants. Damaged in a sense that I was in a forever arrangement with my husband. Now I have to reboot a system that was never meant for an upgrade. Do I even have it in me to give companionship to anyone else who is not Lesley? I won't say no, but I am not confident about that. Simply because it can't be the same as the last time I did this. 

Moments

This is one of my favourite pictures of my love and our baby Bruno. Knocked off late from work. I was on the phone with him to find out what's for dinner. I was told my favourite. Wasn't sure what it was because I loved everything he cooked for me. I always criticised his food, but I had a husband who cooked for me and went all out each time. I was spoilt and so I could afford to be a spoilt brat.
I don't even think I ate that night. He slept before I got home. I usually bring my dinner to the bedroom and catch up. So when I came home to find these two fast asleep in the heat, I did what I do best. Take pictures. I took a few and then gave him kiss. Woke up and and asked for a proper kiss. Hahahaha. I remember like it was juat the other day. I chased Bruno out of our room and went straight to bed without dinner. We cuddled. Had a chat and he admitted he was too tired and wanted to sleep. I showed him the photos the next day. I told him I would not post them unless he pisses me off. Never imagined I'd be pissed off by the fact that he is no more. Motho wa ka! Miss you.

In my shoes

I am typing this blog while in a church service I am attending with my family and in-laws. The last time we were in this setting we were bidding farewell to my husband. Today was an emotional morning because it is also not easy being at Lesley's family home without him. So we spent the first few minutes together crying. No words just tight hugs and sobbing.
So now, I am sitting in church at the exact same spot Lesley and I occupied every time we came here. This time, I am with family in a show of love for Lesley and amazing support for me.
The lunchtime discussion will definitely feature why I don't visit or call often. My mother-in-law hinted in our exchange during the week.
So being in my shoes is quite difficult at this point. I think for many people who are widowed when we are so young.
When in mourning, but mindful of the dangers of deppression you tend to be selfish and only follow your own pattern of grief. It did not involve a lot of people. Not even my closets friends. This is a journey of self-discovery. So I am basically wearing new shoes that walk me to a direction that is far from everyone. But I hope to come back to my loved ones, including my mother-in-law, still able to embrace each other after this transition. To her own admission, I knew her son better than her and for that reason I am best placed to know what is good for me and how to preserve the memory of the love of my life.
It's a tricky situation because Lesley and I were never governed by rules that came with being in a heterosexual relationship. It was always through loving each other and our families deeply and respect. There was no template, but we carved our way of dealing with challenges we faced and we also lead a life that was not part of any (gay) subculture. Every single day was an adventure and we were always creative about how we celebrated our love. I am the only person that knows how it was waking up next him  for almost a decade, I qualify to create my own terms on how I do this. I also have a duty and a promise to keep. To keep our families together. It's important to me too.
I hope I last in these shoes. This is a new expierence to me and my family. I make rules as I go. Mostly to survive and stay as productive as possible. And maybe fall in love, get married and have a family. Not fall in love again, but hopefully a whole new experience of love. I know what I feel based on the life I shared with Lesley. I might need a new pair of shoes for that journey and a lot of luck because Les will always be the love of my life.

Letting go...

I find myself in a state of mind that refuses to be alone. Everything is difficult to do because it was always with Lesley.  Our relationship had old roots that were tangled together. It is not necesarilly because of how long we have been together, but it had more to do with how much of each other we gave to one another. It was a good feeling every single day. Like I always say, even on those bad days. The love was so strong we forgot we were not guaranteed more days together. And I was simply not ready to let go of all those tangible things. I looked forward to preparing a good meal, help him untie his shoe laces and laugh about the muscle pull he had during foreplay. I was not ready to let go of all that.
On all my slow days, when I want to read and write, I am forced to walk through this emotional roller coaster. The only way to avoid it, is to always have people around - which is impossible and probably not a good thing.
But now I am more angry and sad because I don't know what to do with all these habits of taking care of him.  I don't know how to convert that energy into something that helps me. I found pleasure and fulfilment in taking care of my husband. I was always in a hurry to be home with him. Now when I open the door and there is no sign of him, my heart still sinks. I don't want to be alone. I also don't know if I would be happy with anyone else that's not you. People are weird and bring all sorts baggage. We had our own and it had started to be much lighter over almost a decade we lived together. I love and miss you. Letting you go is proving to be a mess.

Garden with no flowers

I was sharing my thoughts with someone close to me the other day. I had to use a disclaimer before I could share them. I had to because this is someone I spend most of my time with. I did not want him to feel like his company is not appreciated. But I cannot help but feel that despite the world having a population of more than 7 Billion people, one can experience loneliness that just pierces the heart and isolate you completely. That is how I sometimes feel about losing you. Not fitting anywhere with anyone.
Somebody else joked that I may be 'damaged goods' and I could never be with anyone else because I still long for you and wired in a way only you knew how to love me. Well, I am not open to that discussion. But I am not going to carry a burden of fitting the image of who people expect me to be at this time. The strength I have will determine who I am at whatever time.
The soil is fertile but there is no harvest this year. That is the analogy for my state of mind. The July winds blew my seeds away. But the soil remains fertile. That's why I titled this post a garden without flowers.

I used to feel a sense of betrayal when I felt I am having a good time. I don't anymore my love. Grief can be morbid and you are too precious to me and I cannot use grief to substitute you. I want to die a happy man. Just like you. I want to cross over to you with no regrets of not living enough. The more I stop, the more I am trapped in this pit of sorrow. I let the moments come. When I feel them coming, I submit all the time. The same goes for when I feel I need to carry on. I soldier on.
There is no way of getting you back. I am making peace with that. Grieving is still a process I will negotiate with life for as long as it lasts. I fear it might outlive me. If not, perhaps some day when I heal, it won't just be your death I think about, but I will celebrate your life too.
Today I am writing to say healing in loneliness is tough. The garden without flowers must be attended to. And I know wherever you are, you'd want me to put it to good use. The impulse has always been to withdraw from people in these times. I cursed people for moving on with their lives while mine fell apart. That experiment did not work. It was more of a path I had to pass through to learn that a smile is not betrayal to your memory. I love you Les. Even beyond this life, I always love you. I know you know everything else I have not said here. Cause you know me so well. That's another reason to this post, to omit some things so I can imagine your naughty smile. Questioning me on things you already know. I know you. Hahaha. I love you.

I want to survive

I want to survive the heartbreak and the deep pain without compromising your memory. Sometimes anger takes over and leads me to temporary solutions to the frustration of not having you around. Your death called for a complete change of routine. Even food taste different Les! I do things differently so I am not reminded that you are gone. It's not always possible. But I want to experience the grieving from a position where I can negotiate my own survival. I would choose death for myself if I knew for sure it would take me to where you are. But I am not brave enough and so I choose to survive this world and continue celebrating our time together. I will face death the day it approaches. I choose to survive people's misinterpretation of how I am going about my grief and mourning. I welcome it. I have made myself vulnerable to all of it because I have publicly declared my pain the same way I publicly celebrated our love and life together. But all of this still remains between you and me. The promise to be together till death tear us apart. It happened. Sooner than expected. So much had to change. So much had to disappear. So it was clear that I would have to swim against a tide of hostility. Hostility from life itself. I want to survive and now I am openimg doors I have never even looked at. It makes me sad. But I want to survive and so my emotions cannot be a barrier between the empty life and my survival. I love you.

Birthday wishes from you to me

I already want to say thank you for what I know would be a special day. I have celebrated eight of my birthdays with you.You have always made sure they are days to remember. You were such a good person I cannot believe I am the one with a life longer than yours. This place needs more people like you. It still hurts very deeply. But in all this hurt and confusion, I still feel favour from the gods and God himself. It is through our friends and family.

They were a safety net I never thought I had. I was ready to fall hard and never stand up. But they fuel all the strength I have. I am able to wake up, stand up and live a bit. And I want to give them credit for most of it.






I will go through tomorrow with a lot of tears no doubt. It's almost impossible to celebrate life when such a big part of me is no more.

Every single day I mumble and chant "God forgive me for my sins". You death feels like God's wrath.  What else could this be? Did he know from the day I was born that I would be in this mess? Giving you to me for eight years, uproot you and expect me to cope? Yes, I am whining and going on about things I cannot change. But as Mama would say, "Molomo o diretswe go bala-bala". So ntlogele ke bala-bale ke kgotsofatse pelo ya ka. Hahaha. I miss you.

The point of this post however, is to thank you in advance for tomorrow. I can only imagine how magical it would be if you were here. We had all plans in place for the day, but fate had other ideas. I don't want to promise thatI will go out there and enjoy my day. I never imagined I'd be writing blog post and be vulnerable to the world because you died. So, tomorrow will be very difficult because I already feel it now. I will use what's left of my strength to actually celebrate you and pay homage to the man who loved me until his last breath. I am so fortunate because you knew how much I appreciate everything you did for me. There are so many things I can single out to thank you for, but the list would be too long. But I am very much grateful for collaborating with me in giving dignity to Black Gay Love. With all our flaws, we were accidental activists and if it wasn't for you, I don't where I would be. The few people we inspired as a coupled accomplished our mission. We know the miracle in reaching even to one person. We both know how that changes society.

You were my gravity and the voice for reason. I learned all those lesson so quickly as if I knew you were not here for long. Now I live by those rules and staying true to myself. Thank you for all of that. I celebrate you with tears in my eyes. Tears of joy and tears of sorrow. I will continue to celebrate you and thanks for the birthday wishes.

This is so sore! I love you.

Hurry up and go!

Is crying our default reaction to pain? I mean, I am so tired of it, I want to feel something else. I side-eye grief and ask, "Is this all you are going to do to me? Make me curl up and cry every time I think about him?".
It happens a lot when I am alone. It's like grief is my-lady-in-waiting. Not much of a servant though, because it pretty much dictates what I should feel. It's all tears. Even when there's a smile or a chuckle when I think of my husband, I always tear up. Is there anything else beyond tears? Based on conversations I have had with people who have been through this path, it is still early days. I scoff and sigh when I think about that. I hate being in any sort of vicious cycle. Solitude no longer means time for reflection and the renewal of what's good in me. I don't even know if I can call my moments alone solitude. There is just something that induces tears. Being in the same situation for long is against every fibre of my being. But grief is something new to me. A whole new experience and so every time I resist what it dictates, I end up deep in its captivity. There are no short cuts. But I am so stubborn I still resist going to places it wants me to go to. It's too dark. It's too unfamiliar.
I am a functioning, permanently brokenhearted man. That's why I sometimes refuse to go through all these things that are said to be part of the journey. I am in love with my smile more these days because it's a veil that hides the turmoil. The smile almost transports me to where I used to be when Lesley was still here. He was the reason for many of the times I would be smiling.
Dear grief, I want to say hurry up and go. But reality is, people who love deeply will also mourn very deeply. I understand why you are here. But I don't have to be nice to you all the time.
I miss my husband. I don't do well when I am alone either. I do it more now because I want it to be a feeling I no longer think about. Loneliness. Me? It's still unbelievable. Did I think we'd live forever? No. But I certainly didn't expect him to leave so soon. Sigh. Let me get up. Go out and smile.

The Distraction

Le Panstula la ka. Picture taken in October 2012 Johannesburg Gay Pride. 

It's only when I am alone that I realise I have hardly scratched the surface when it comes to coming to terms with being alone and lonely. Everything else that I have been up to is like a big noise that distracts me from the silence of your absence. The loud laughs over good food and drinks with friends. The long telephone conversations and lately my gym sessions are part of that big noise that help me only experience the void you left for a short time. But it is not sustainable. I also don't think it's healthy to be shielded from what I am supposed to go through. It sure does feel like I am walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

I am almost used to the roller coast ride of emotions, but I am blocking out how people think I should deal with this transition. Although I do everything I can to avoid dealing with my grief in ways that I will regret, because my aim is to preserve your memory. There's already been conversations about a new relationship. There's been jokes about it too. But at the end of all these distractions I am reconciled with my longing for you. Sometimes I deliberately say no to friends when they want to go out. Sometimes I'd rather be here alone and get to know this pain better. Someone may argue that secluding myself could be a sign of depression. Duh!! Of course I am depressed. I am also aware of the state I am in. I want to feel all its corners. The distractions are good. But they can never dillute or ease the piercing pain. Time will eventually desensitise me, make me numb and eventually get me to a point I don't dissolve when I think about you.
I love LOVE and I miss Love. The things I could only share with you. The things that only you could give to me. The jokes and discussions about a new lover freak me out so much. I am not really concerned about what people think. But I think I am my own worst nightmare. When I met you, I had told you and the universe that I could never love anyone for the rest of my life. It made you upset. But I stopped saying it after we got married. I am still unable to say what changed. But now you are gone. Anyone that suggests a topic around love and being in love, I just say "People die". Yes, we are left behind in this world and people perceive it as opportunity to indulge "before it is too late". I had my forever with you baby. I am not in the mood for love that is not with you. How long am I going to hold on to you? I don't know. I am only flesh and blood. So I am living my truth right now. It may change over time. But at least it would be on my terms and my time. Right now I want to be the psychopath that won't let go of "the dead husband" without any distraction.
Ndi danile Lesley. Ndibuhlungu baby.

Embracing my widowed heart

The worst has happened. I lost the love of my life. I'm already living my worst nightmare. But grief is not like a course you need to finish in order to qualify for some certificate of life. I brace myself for a life long journey with extra strength to carry this painful reality. Even when we learn to smile and laugh again, we carry this sense of loss. At some point one feels like there is a need to be integrated back into one's community of friends. Talk and laugh about everything without the burden of trying to be sensitive around me. I had to find myself all over again after losing my husband. Live with the fact that I am widowed. The 'till death do us part' came a bit soon for us. But I go back into life with no fear or fragility. The worst has already happened. I lost the man I love.  And now I have to go and start 'living' without him. There's absolutely no rush back into this life. But I know I can't stay in the dark hole forever. I want to say Les wouldn't want that, but I won't use that old tired line. If I had to wait for who knows what, I'd never be able to preserve his memory. Immortalise the man who showed me love in a way I will never experience with anyone. Every journey has its pit stops. Mine will be full of tears and aches in my heart. I will still long for you for many years to come. But I am embracing all this and I will do it for as long I live. Till we meet again. I love you.

A new place

This was my first live broadcast since your passing. It became clear to me that the gods conspired to have me cover  Mozart's Requiem. A Requiem is mass for the dead, which was exactly what we did for you when you left. It was the first live I did without getting a text message from you. My number one fan. I miss you. 

Yesterday I saw old friends from my church youth choir days. It was mini reunion of old friends and so there was so much laughter and reminiscing about the good days we had together. We made fun of each other and our adult problems. We are among the lucky young South Africans employed, but we all laughed about how our salaries disappear within days after getting paid. Everyone had a story of how they survive each week.
We also laughed about me being a widow(er). I joked and said it was okay for everyone to hug and kiss me because I had already gone through all cleansing rituals which people like me go through. It's not as funny in English, but I made fun of everyone's money problems and told them I was still cashing in on insurances and shopping till I drop. It's not true, but it is the perception. It was a moment of reflection on serious issues with humour. We remembered how we could not wait to be adults and make our own rules. Everyone wished they had the rewind button taking us back to being carefree and younger.
Who would have thought that at 34, I'd have friends coming to my house to offer me condolences for the loss of my husband? Who thought I'd be here listening to the sound of my lover's silence? Is it part of growing up? I find myself in places that I drove past as I was growing up. I remember hearing someone's brother had passed away. Les and I attended funerals of close friends and relatives. We cried and consoled each other. We offered love and support for the bereaved families. We spoke about our own deaths like it was in our hands. We planned it for later, but today I find myself in a place I never imagined. That's what loss does to you. It takes you to places you saw from a distance. Places you don't spend your time thinking about.
Some of the conversations with old friends were about how long it takes before people start dating after loss. It hit me then that I was in that place I never thought of because Les and I were in a 'you are stuck with me' situation. It dawned on me that there is a future beyond grieving. We made all sorts of jokes about it, but on my way home, I was sad that some day I may have to turn a page and start over again. I want to pretend this future does not exist and hold on to mourning the love of my life. Yes, it's only been three months, but there is no gatekeeper to our thoughts and the conversations we can have about death and life after death. But all this talk collides with my deep sadness of losing the one I thought I was going to make things work with. We had already been through the worst, so I am sure we were going to make it work. But now I am stuck here in a place I never imagined.
This period also comes with people who will police how you mourn. It comes with people commenting on how often you go out and how long you should wait before you can do this and that. Lesley must be having a good laugh watching me deal with all this crap.
I am grateful for yesterday's meeting with old friends. It was the alarm clock set for me to realise that I was now in a new place. A place without my love. I will remember my arrival to this place as the space where I broke down a lot. I arrived at this place the day my Lesley died. It just took a few kak funny, insensitive jokes from old friends to make me realise where I am. There is no rush for me to be ready for this new place. The place can wait for me so I can create a world that I can live in. A space that will only have his memory because I intend to bring him along. Rest in Peace my baby.

When I didn't kiss you goodbye

When I didn't kiss you goodbye, it wouldn't be because I'm mad at you. It was always because you'd be sleeping so peacefully when I'm getting ready for my early morning shift. As soon as you woke up, I'd get a call or text message complaining why I didn't say goodbye. This is one of the pictures I presented to you last year. Trying to explain how I could not bring myself to ruining your beauty sleep. You'd still not appreciate that I left without saying goodbye. You were so strict with that tradition. You lived up to it every time. Angry or not, you kissed me hello and goodbye. I knew I had done something wrong if the kiss was on the cheek or on my forehead. That's also how I knew you had a bad day. There were signs in the kisses. I miss them. I remember on your last day on earth, you kept coming to our bedroom just to kiss me. Refusing to let me out of bed. I didn't know I had just spent my last night with you. I'm lucky I got all those lessons of love from you, because there are no regrets. Just heartache. We even made up for the days I didn't have the heart to wake you just to kiss you goodbye.

It's 2:50am as I type this. I can't sleep. It happens a lot. I was so spoilt. I could not fall asleep unless you held me close. You'd fall asleep holding on to me. I miss all of that. The cuddling and the deep sleep I experienced while in your loving arms. What am I gonna do without you Les? What am I supposed to do? I'd do anything for one more kiss. I wish you didn't leave so soon.

Reflections

Pic taken in May 2016 on holiday with our Jack Russels; Bruno and Rihanna. We were on a 5km hiking trail in Magalies. 

There's always something new to look back on. The nine years we spent together was our "forever". I documented most of it almost as if someone whispered to me that today I'd be here by myself. Baby, I miss you every day. Sometimes I wish there were telephone lines where you are. I loved checking up on you throughout the day. I have no one to share juicy gossip with. Our private jokes and nicknames we gave people are not as funny without you on the other side of the line. I miss your calls. Especially when you wanted to share a funny story. You'd annoy me and laugh for a good three minutes before you could share. I held onto the phone and anxiously wait for you to make me laugh. I miss the emails with subjects like "Babe what do you think?" or "Read this please love". All of these things showed me exactly where I belonged. I think I subconsciously walked with spunk and a smile because I had you. You made me feel Good about myself. You exorcised my insecurities. Just by loving me even on my worst days. My dark days never lasted.

"When you're sad, I'm also sad". "Don't think too much". "Come on, smile". After a while when you said any of these words, I knew exactly what you were doing. I always obliged.

And then there would be the tickling, literally And physically forcing me to let go of anger. There was a day I actually wanted to count how many times we kiss each day. We could not get our hands off each other. Up until your last day on earth. Kiss and hug. Kiss and hug. Sometimes just hold each other's hands so tight without saying a word. The cuddles. The love. The madness.

I start another day without you. I have so much gratitude in my heart. My sadness is slowly converting itself to something that will immortalise you in my mind, my heart and soul. I am thankful for the love you brought. It's left a light that will help me through each day. When I cry, don't think I'm sad. I think I'll still tear up ten years from today if I'm still this side. It's difficult to think about you without being emotional. I love you, you know? I love you.

My Heiligenstadt Testament

The Heiligenstadt Testament is a letter Ludwig van Beethoven wrote to his brothers when his health began to deteriorate. I could not find a better analogy of the way I feel today. You knew my love for classical music and it's something you embraced. Beethoven no longer wanted to be in denial. He perhaps thought this was going to help him deal with his new normal. He didn't realise he wasn't slightly losing his hearing, but he'd be completely deaf. But you know what my love? He still managed to compose music that we still play decades later.

Today, I feel like I am writing my own Heiligenstadt Testament because of the aches in my heart and soul. The transition from being married to you and now having to mourn your death has put me through a phase of severe emotional dis-ease. Everything I walk into reminds me of the change and the new life I have to embark on.

Like Beethoven, I am losing all my senses. I can't hear music the way I used to. When I hear your favourite track, I sob. I wipe the tears and carry on. I carry on even though I know I will hit another snag and another one.

The bright side to my testament perhaps is that I am making peace with this reality. I acknowledge it's not just change, but a completely new life. I accept it, mainly because I have no other option. Today we heard of another colleague who's battling with cancer. Chances of survival are so slim. It made me sad. Sad that a young, vibrant human being would die.

Life will be cut short just like yours. Yours was even more traumatic because no one saw it coming. It's then I told a colleague and friend of mine that I'd swap places with anyone with a terminal disease. When I lost you, I asked myself what's the worst that could ever happen to me. I am already living my worst nightmare. I have lost my sight, my hearing and ability to do the things I did when I knew I'd end up in your arms. This is not self-pity but a mere acknowledgement of the dearth or lack of appetite for a new life. Fear of the unknown. That's my testament.

Simple Gifts

You know, the simple gifts are the ones we treasure the most once they disappear. It's also the simple things that trigger sadness and a sense of loss. When I went to the bathroom to wash my face this morning, I noticed the missing toothbrush. Yours. Tears and a smile met each other half way on my face. The consolation was your T-Shirt. The one I am wearing now. Thinking about you makes me sad and recently also very happy. The simple gifts you presented every single day bring me emotions I have never experienced before. I resort to just crying sometimes because I never know what to do with the weird and sometimes wonderful feelings I get from just reflecting on my life with you. And trying to imagine more days without you. It's a tough journey.
I prepared another Sunday lunch without you today. I cried again, this time not from emotions but it was because I now have to peel onions. It was something you did for me every time we cooked together. I had a good chuckle because of the tears from peeling onion. These are simple gifts I am talking about. You protected me from even the smallest petty issues I had with things around the house.
I miss hearing your reassuring voice. Telling me you love me. The way you always said "Kea go rata" was like only you knew what it is that you loved in me.  It was with confidence and a mysterious demeanour. It was not like from anyone else. Even in death, I still have the scent and colour Of The love you showered me with. It's a stain I am not removing from my memory of you. Ke sa go rata.

Look what I found

I didn't know this would be the last picture of you taken by me.
Seven days before you died. 01-08-2018

It was early hours on Saturday the 1st of July 2017 when woke up worried about your body temperature. "I don't feel so good love. Ke tshwere ke dikodu". I gave you no choice and we ended up at the emergency room to get you some help. I got impatient waiting for more than half an hour not knowing your condition. I was anxious and I inquired what was going on. I was told to be patient and wait. I was eventually allowed into you cubicle, you laughed at me for being hysterical. I kissed you like someone relieved to see you alive not knowing seven days later I'd be trying to make sense of life without you.



Two drips later, we were chatting, laughing and of course taking pictures. I took several of just you and this is the only one I ended up keeping. You continued with your plans to go to Limpopo to see family because you felt better. I remember we swapped cars because you wanted to take your sisters with you. And I was on the other hand going to work that same day. We both complained about not spending enough time together especially on weekends. We made a pact that we'd fix that situation.

I remember the many phone calls chats we had that day. I spoke to everyone you were with and promised the next trip I'd be coming with you. You were happy and in good spirits. It was like the emergency room episode never happened. I looked forward to coming back to you and that was how it was every single day. We were reunited and joked about how our week was going to be alcohol-free because you were on antibiotics and I was on flu medication. We were meant to have champagne on the day you died to break the "fast". But you didn't make it back home. We swapped back cars the day you died. I keep thinking maybe if you were still using my car, you would have had a chance of survival. It just does not stop. The what ifs. It's part of this painful experience. I can't reverse the time and I will never kiss those beautiful lips or see that smile again. To be honest, I don't even know where I get the strength to carry all of this. I don't even know if it's strength or just a phase before I completely fall apart. Mogatsake, I love and miss you.

The Guilt

Since you've been gone, I've been feeling guilty after every good time I have with people. Everyone is trying to do the impossible and I appreciate it. It really gets me through to the next day. Knowing people care and are not impatient with me. Sometimes I don't even want to eat thinking to about where you are and if you're at peace. After every good laugh with friends, my grin fades away so quickly when I am alone thinking about you.

I can't even flirt with boys anymore or even make straight guys uncomfortable by calling them "babe" or "honey". All the things that made you say "You're crazy, but I love you". I lost myself when I lost you. I'm not in a hurry to anything. I think I'm slowly discovering this new place and it's pace. I'm still discovering the things that trigger the reality that you will never come back. It's almost three months, but everything is still pretty much new to me. I don't know how to be someone else. But I don't remember being without you, so everything I am for the past nine years has everything to do with you. So my baby, I do feel guilty when I have fun without you. I know it's good for me. But it feels like I'm leaving you behind. Is this what's called moving on? It scares the shit out of me. 

I know you'd want me to be happy. And this I know because you said it to me many times. I also knew through everything you've done for me. Your everyday commitment to our love is enough testimony to know that you'd want me to be happy. I love and miss you. 

We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast. But when we say this, we imagine that the hour is placed in an obscure and distant future. 

It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun, or that death could arrive this same afternoon - this afternoon which is so certain, and which has every hour filled in advance. - Tod Waggner

Temporary solutions

I've become schizophrenic. One moment I'm upbeat and the next I'm completely broken. I'm already looking in the wrong places to fill the void. I'm starting to escape these difficult moments. Temporary solutions.

Either way, I end up in the same place if not worse. Every day I stumble on something that reminds me what a lovely man you were. Great and small pieces of evidence that says, "Matuba you were loved". Just the other I wrote that I was beginning to accept God's will. It's a painful experience. 

Fear, anger and sorrow reign in my life. We made all those big decisions together. We debated some of them for days. I looked forward to rehashing our whatsapp conversations in the evening. I laugh about how I used to pretend not to be on my phone when you walk into the bedroom. You used to be grumpy about my addiction to my phone. "E le gore o busy le mang cause nna ke teng". It was cute when you wanted to macho man. I enjoyed submitting to your attention-seeking rants. They were probably not a good way to know that I wasn't giving the attention you wanted. But it was our own tango dance. We knew the moves to our routine, habits and everything that made us who we are. It's  still feels like a dream! I find myself crying in the middle of a traffic jam. Tears just rolling down my face. Every time when I entertain the fact that you're gone forever. I just break down. That's why I've beem running away from reality in recent days. Finding distraction and hoping I won't have enough time to be swallowed by this beast. Grief. Temporary solutions. I take advantage of them whenever I can find one. But it's just a waste of time. I'm so sad baby. I'm just so sad nothing makes sense. 

Throw Back Thursday

I chose the picture you took and threatened to turn it into a meme. I hated the pic. In fact I still do. You complained about how I wasn't giving you attention. I was busy on my phone. Probably in a work WhatsApp group or something. I just remember how I got to make peace with the existence of this picture. I have only been able find strength to go through your phone now and your Drop Box. All the things you loved and wanted to keep.
There are still people who only found out recently that you are no more. But the reason I am writing this post is because I came across this picture in your phone and remembered your laugh and the fun you had when you were threatening to post it. I complained about looking fat. And your smile faded immediately and gave me a lecture about how I should stop talking like that. You knew how to exorcise my insecurity demons. You knew them so well. You loved me. You showed it every single day. Even during bad times.
Last night I went out to watch a movie with Gontse. We had dinner afterwards and all I talked about was you. Without crying I told him all about you.  He never really knew you, but he was touched by your passing. Many people wish they could take away this pain from me. All I can do now is just relive the memories and try feel good about them while I make peace with not being able to have more with you. I love you.

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Story behind your violent death

Yesterday I cried, until I just could not cry anymore. Some days I just don't cry at all. I think about you and just feel good that we had the time to create some great memories. I am slowly walking towards acceptance of God's deliberate plans. There are so many moments that have made me realise that it had to be you that left and not me. The day I was told you were gone, I wanted to trade places with you. God knows, weeks after your funeral, I had suicidal thoughts and just wanted to die. I still don't know how to live without you.

This is one of the moments I will cherish forever. It's the day
you unexpectedly came to my office to bring me flowers and the
Thomas Sankara book I have been threatening to buy for many weeks.
This picture was taken by friend and colleague Mpho Majoro. 

But there are challenges I face dealing with your passing. I would not want you to go through all of that trauma. Look, I'd prefer being with you here dealing with life's challenges like we always did. We conquered. You were called before me and after everything I've gone through, I am beginning to see why things happened the way they did. You are in a better place my love. I will probably never stop longing for you. I also still believe the pain of losing you will outlive me. I am being shown every day through good and bad experiences, why it had to be you and not me.

I was bitter and angry at God. I still am to a certain extent. Especially about how you died. It was a violent death. You were a beautiful kind man. You were loving and always put others first. When I saw the wreckage of the car, I was so hurt. I am still hurting thinking about it. The voice of my brother still echoes. Telling me I should not go see your body. He was the first one to arrive at the scene of the accident. He is still trying to cope with the image of your lifeless, battered body. I pray that you didn't feel any pain. I try not think about it. But it is what upsets me most about your passing. 

I was comforted by Prof Patrick Lumumba last week when he paid homage to a South African political activist and a champion of the anti-apartheid movement, Onkgopotse Tiro. He was killed by a parcel bomb from the apartheid police. He was young and handsome just like you. Prof. Lumumba gave me another perspective that helps me recover from this tragedy. He spoke about many great people who did great things, but still died horrific deaths. "Tiro died a good death. You died the death of brave men. Those God loves die violently," he said. He mentioned Christ, Ghandi and Sankara as some of the great people who died violently. I also thought of Ruth First and some of the people you and I knew. You were a great person and you are missed so much. Rest in Peace. Don't stop coming through dreams. 

Take me to my love

I now know how it feels to have nothing to lose. I mean, I have already lost you. What's the worst that can happen now? It's easy to be faithless when dreams are crushed. People have been asking me if I could make sense of death easier because of I am Sangoma. Some people want me to embrace the fact that you have now crossed over to the afterlife. I am still not able to make peace with your death. The deep pain I am feeling now won't let me let go and believe that you are dead. Dead!

I don't want to be reasonable or practical. All I want now is you. Your smile, your laugh. Your  presence Lesley. I want to hold you again. 

I wish there was something I could do to stop time from moving. Just so I could stop counting the the days you've been gone! I try speak to God. Our creator. I can't ask him to bring you back. But I also don't know how to be without you. I can't stop my tears as I type this. I'm hurting so much. It's also confusing because I planned my whole life around you. Now I don't even know if I will wake up strong enough to go to work.

I just want to be with you. I wish I knew my way to where you are.

Growing pains

I'm part of that generation that has elderly parents who need extra care. I'm fortunate to still have both parents. Some of my friends have buried theirs. Others never really had both parents in their upbringing.
So this is perhaps how life has been good to me. Maybe unfair, but still god to me because I am not in charge fo what happens next.
Mama and Papa have always been the pillars in my life as a child. And they were also there for me when I chose my life partner. Lesley and I became one so quickly because our parents could not divide their love between us. In their own weird way they treated us like one. I reveal more beautiful stories in my upcoming book. But right now I want to express the pains of growing up. When I was younger I knew my parents were a safety net I'd fall on if life does not work out. For as long as they lived, I held on to the comfort zone they created for me. I watched them shield me from realities that could have easily broken me. But they always wanted me to know that they were not here for long and I needed to work on a Plan B. And I did. Lesley was actually a bonus. Because they had both of us. And we felt safe despite their old age. We felt so safe and that was one of the ingredients to our perfect love.
But now with Lesley gone and the pain so overwhelming, not even my mother who performed miracles can't make it better.
We grow up into situations that not even our parents can't save us. I also see how it's killing Mama.
She tells me every day that she feels bad she can't make me feel better. She tries. She fights. And she fails. Though it means so much to me to see her try to drag me out of this deep intense pain.  Many times she ends up inside that hole with me. All we do is hold on till the tide is not so strong. Les and I made a vow to care for them till the end. But it's all broken. We have anxiety about leaving each other broken. Lesley, I still can't believe it. Come back.

I appreciate the bad times too

Yesterday I was thinking so much about what I choose to hold on to, in order to keep your memory alive. We are very subjective about what we choose to remember about people we love. Especially people who are no longer in this world. I was having a debate in my head about whether it's good to just edit out the bad times and hold on to the the best times.

We survived our worst days and that means we were okay. I cried so much yesterday thinking of the days I hurt you. You were not much of a talker, and I went through an email you sent me in 2012, expressing how I hurt you with words when we disagreed. I probably said what I said, thinking I still had you for many years to come. I thought I had all the time in the world to make it up to you. I did make it up to you, but I don't have you now to look back at the long journey we travelled to reach the peak of our relationship.
The early big fights had already happened and we were on cruise mode. It had been long since we had a meltdown. It's something I really appreciate. And I will keep saying for as long as I live. You and I fought and disagreed like people who loved each other. And we both knew and understood that we needed more than love to stay together. We were at a point where we could read each other's body language. The funny moments were when you were upset and didn't want to talk about it. You still kissed me good morning. But it wasn't the usual long, warm, signature kiss. That's how I could tell I pissed you off. You still called to say you got to work safe. But it would never be "Hi babaloo or Hello babe" as usual. You would just say "Hi". You sent all the signs out there to say "wa mbora, but I love you". I think about those moments too.
And then the long WhatsApp messages would follow.
We always worked things out. The last two weeks of your life felt like we were recovering from a lover's quarrel. There was love like never before. The last hours together were like we knew it was end of the road. You even left a message for me with your sister. It's all those difficult days we overcame that made us love each other to the end. I love and miss you.
All I can do is just hold on to everything you gave me. Especially love. There's no regret or things that were unsaid between us. I love how you'd turn pink when I caught you flirting with boys. Hahahaha. I know I was defensive when you caught me. I'd even deny it despite evidence. Hahahaha. I wasn't scared to lose you. I was just too embarassed that I wanted it all. You and all the other meaningless things I did. I can't speak for you. But I never doubted your love and commitment to me. It was beyond love. It was way beyond love. And all I can is hold on to that.

Song To The Moon

These are translated lyrics to one of the most famous opera arias. It's from the opera Rusalka by Antonin Dvorak. I post this looking at the full moon from my window in Soshanguve, Pretoria. I read the words and they help express how I feel.

Moon, high and deep in the sky

Your light sees far,

You travel around the wide world,

and see into people's homes.

Moon, stand still a while

and tell me where is my dear.

Tell him, silvery moon,

that I am embracing him.

For at least momentarily

let him recall of dreaming of me.

Illuminate him far away,

and tell him, tell him who is waiting for him!

If his human soul is, in fact, dreaming of me, 

may the memory awaken him!

Moonlight, don't disappear, disappear!

People die...

Since you left, every time I hear of someone's death, I relive the trauma of your passing.
People die. You and I attended funerals together. Not so long ago our friend Joyce lost her brother. You and I were there for her. You and I spoke about death and the need to love and cherish each other more.

People die. I have never made sense of death and how it impacts those left behind. I don't think many people confront all of that until they lose someone to death.

People die. Others will want to move on. But I don't want to move on. I want to stand here. In the rain. In the sun. In the cold. Until it sinks in that you are not coming back. Some people will not understand why I still cry. It's two months since you've been gone. More people still die. Sometimes I want to die too. Sometimes I want to live. But all I can do is survive, because people die.

Amazing Grace

eNCA late night news for the first time since Lesley's passing. He was my biggest fan. Learnt of his death after reading my last bulletin on 8th July 2017. Life will never be the same. Rest in Peace my love. 

You would be so proud of me baby. The last time I read a news bulletin was the day I was told you are gone forever. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I still remember the way I was screaming. In disbelief. I wanted Angelo to take back the words he told me.
Today I braved the cold brought by that memory. I went back on air and I did this in your memory. You were so proud of me. Always expressing excitement and even making big plans on top of the dreams we both shared. You believed in me even when I was blinded by doubt. Now I'm looking back at the last few hours and amazed that I didn't break down. The whole experience is another reminder that you are really gone. Is this what "life goes on" feels like?  Every milestone and every achievement without you is painful. I seek your validation and motivation. They came from a warm and genuine place. I was always guaranteed love and honesty. I miss you Les.
I'm still shocked that I pulled it off. I must confess I did check my phone to see if you sent me anything. You always sent text messages telling me to sit up straight or sometimes make fun of me when I fluff. But you always told me how handsome I am. And never stopped saying how proud you were. I worked with the same crew that received the news about your passing with me. They were supportive and we declared today's broadcast to be in your memory. You are loved and missed sthandwa sam.

Gratitude, pain and anger

3 June 2017, we had just arrived at what would be our last weekend away. 

When a baby cries, a mother would always know what to do to comfort the baby. With just a cry, a mother will know if it's because the child is hungry, sleepy or in pain. That's how babies communicate. With a cry. And if a mere mortal can figure out a crying baby without any words, surely I don't need a sophisticated method to communicate my anger and sadness to God. He knows my cry.

I am nowhere near closure, but I have made a decision to have a little bit of gratitude in my life. Through all of this pain and anger, I feel I need to make every day count and not wallow in the sadness and pain. Ignoring it won't help either, but I just want to be able to carry the pain for as long as it lasts. I suspect that the pain will outlive me. I don't want to be without you, but I have to accept the things that I am unable to change. You were in my life for a purpose and I believe the time I had with you was always a loan from the creator. A loan without interest. But I do take away so much enriching life experiences from the love you gave me. 

There's no template to dealing with grief. We are not given any opportunity to bargain when death arrives. There's no time to negotiate and that's why we dwell on the pain and anger. At least I know that's why I am always so depressed. I have had the best times with you, but I feel I should have been prepared to deal with a possibility that you would be gone so soon. Someone said "focus on your strength and not so much on your pain". People say all sorts of things when they are trying to comfort another person. I thought to myself, "What strength do I have, when I can't even plan three hours ahead of my life?" 

Writing this blog has been helpful. I used to not know what to do, when I am overwhelmed. Every time I break down, I reached out to a friend. It's not sustainable. Even though people want to be there for  me, it's just not practical to always want someone with me, when you were the one person that was always with me and there for me. That's why I want to at least have one thought of gratitude every day. Even if it's just one. Be grateful  that I met you. I am not going to fight grief. I will let the process unfold, but I will force myself to have even if it's just one thought of gratitude every day. I have no regrets about anything between us. All I have is gratitude that I met you. I will work on the anger, so I can live a bit more to can make every day count. The pain is deep and intense still. Time is no healer as many say, we just learn to carry the pain and hopefully it will be less intense. I love you. 

From strength to strength

The only thing that doesn't changeIn this picture is my weight. 
But we hada lot of Aromat to make us look great. And boy, We 
felt great too! 2010 vs 2016

You and I watched each other grow. A "living together" relationship was new to both of us. It overwhelmed us at times. It fulfilled  us most of the time. We took solace in the many years we've been together and the path we walked to get to our happiness and contentment.  If I had to use material or things that money can buy, I'd still come to the same conclusion that we really watched each other grow.

We didn't have much when we met. But we were too drunk in love to notice that we were the laughing stock, sometimes of the gay community we thought we belonged to. We lived in my patents' back room. That was our love nest for many, many years. We were not deterred. We actually laughed along with everyone. Except we laughed cause we made each other so happy. 

We were happy till the day you died. I have no one to look back with, to see how far we've really come. In my previous post I spoke about how you continued to write our love story, when I thought it was over. I look at pictures from many years ago, I have a good laugh because they remind of days when we made things work with very little resources.  We made it fun. We made it easy. I wouldn't call it struggles. It was preparation for great things that followed. Not just material, but there was spiritual growth. And that's what kept us together. You would always say to me, especially when we were happy, "Ke tswa kgole le wena baby ". I knew exactly what you meant because I was there with you every day. Friends came and left. Seasons changed, but we remained.

We were so close we spoke to each other every day even when we "broke up". Even the big break up back in 2011. Hahaha. We even had lunch together on some of those days. 

It's difficult to focus on the strength I have now and not the pain. Ke utlwile botlhoko. But you are the light into this darkness. And I want to thank you for coming into my dreams. 

Today I just wanted to say thank you for the journey. I was laughing when I thought of when our Toyota Yaris was our only car and we shared it. Years later we had more than that. Enough to say we have worked hard. We had choices we couldn't make years ago. Little did I know, one of the measures we use to gauge our growth is the one that will kill you. The car that you loved. 

I love you. 

Things we hold on to

Some of the last things
we said to each other on
the day he died.

I got a call from the tracking device company at 19:12 on Saturday, 8 July 2017. They asked if you were okay and I said, "of course he's fine, I spoke to him not too long ago". They claimed they could not track your car. My first thought was your problematic battery and told them it had happened before. I called you. You didn't answer, but I left you in the company of friends and so I thought you would have called of there anything wrong.

I didn't realise 19:12 was just after the impact  that ended your life. It's 2017 now and technology helps us hold on to our ladt moments together. I kept our text conversations. The way I documented our life and the little things we did together, it's like I knew you were not here for long. 

I still have so many questions about why you even took the route you did when you left home. I still feel like I should have done something to make you miss the time and place where you died. I acknowledge your death. I am not in denial about that. One day I will concede defeat to the universe and accept that the one love I had and guarded so jealously, is no longer with me. But in my mind and heart, you will always be the love of my life. 

My heart aches so much baby.  You never gave up on me. When I refused to see ways to make things better, you turned the page and continued writing our love story. With a lot of conviction, you taught me to love even when life had so much hopelessness.  You gave me all that, but now you leave me shocked, angry and sad. Only you could love a man like me. Through everything we've overcome, I cannot imagine any human being who would choose to sacrifice themselves the way you did for me. 

Let's also not forge how sexy you are my love. The lust I have for you. "Ever lusting love" I used to call it. You laughed at me. All I havr now is our last conversations. In my heart and on my phone. I wish you'd just come back. 

My father's son. My mother's child.

This is you and
Papa back in 2015,
Painting the wall
at home. Love how
You loved each other

 I am in between two extremes. I experience fulfilling moments with family, friends and colleagues. And then there are these new lows I experience as a hang over from the good times. That's mostly when I miss you. The pain is still so intense.

I am not the only one missing you. Papa misses his babrber. You. He does not say it so much. He rarely expresses his feelings. But I saw him shed a tear this weekend. I spoke about you to both him and Mama. I was choking as I was telling them the plans we had for this weekend. I saw Papa cry too. You both took a while before you warmed up to each other. When the period of getting to know each other ended. You were father and son.

I know this from your disagreements. I learned it from the things you did together. Most of them without me. I've walked into the conversations you had with him. About work, cars about your family. I also remember how he jokingly threatened to kick us out of the house when we didn't tell him we won't be coming back home.

I also won't forget how you helped nurse him back to health when he was attacked with injuries we thought would kill him. You were the pillar of the family. The hospital drives. The hugs and love you showed the whole family. The most beautiful expression of love you've always shown was respect. That's your legacy. That's one of the lessons I take from this painful experience. You are my father's son. He misses you.

I took a photo of you, capturinga picture of Mama in her church
choir uniform during one of theirfestivals. Mama's always been
proud of us and happy to see together.

Mama wears your sweater every week. She's hurting. But she's asking us not to cry so much for you. She reckons  our cries will not set your free into the afterlife. She prays a lot for your spirit to find peace. She's also asking you to appear in her dreams and assure her you're at peace. You are my mother's child. She misses you.

I miss you.