Friends with grave diggers

Photo Credit to Kagiso Molefe who works at the
Ga-Rankuwa cemetery

I came to my shrine just before noon today. I felt like I was just going to sit there and cry after all the admin I had to deal with today. Our bank accounts, the collection of the wreck of the car and basically signing off that you are indeed gone.

I didn't get to do my cry because people who work at the cemetery are now my friends. From just saying hello during my visits, it was today elevated to a chat and a lot of questions about why I come so often. It was intrusive, but I understood because Kagiso said he had seen my car too many times and wondered if I am okay. I was looking for shock and maybe a conversation cut short when I explained that you are my husband and the love of my life. More questions came about how you died, where we stayed and why Ga-Rankuwa cemetery and not Soshanguve where we lived.

"Etla ko shape pic le motho wa hao" that's how I got to get a picture standing over the grave. I obliged. Then he left me to be alone for a while. I did the usual feather dusting the granite and sit in silence. Silence. I didn't feel like I was gonna cry. I spoke to you a bit. Then when I left, that is when I felt overwhelmed by emotions. I stopped and cried. I even called Charmaine and sent text to Benji and Gerald. "How does this grief thing work, one moment you are fine. The next I am shattered and can't even speak". It was good to be on the phone with a calm voice on the other side of the phone. I felt a bit composed and honestly felt like going to a liquor store to get just one or two bottles of Savanna. I will not confirm here if I did. But I think you know what happened because I did exactly what I thought you would do.

I saw your mom, earlier in the day. My "Aus Morongwe". We cry together. Today she laughed and warned me that if you were to walk in there, we would be in trouble. I remember how you used to be annoyed by us when we cried over things that happened in the past. I even remember sleeping next to you while you were on the phone with her asking her not to cry when she told you what the girls got up to. I always wanted us to drive to her and you'd say "Tsamaya o le 1, Mama o rata ho lla man". She is a crier and you never wanted to accept it. But you taught me NOT to cry when there are problems to solve. I can't bring you back. Surely you will forgive us for crying about this one. You are loved and you are missed. The pain is unbearable. I wish you'd come back.