
It’s hard to believe that it’s been one year since my mzee left us. He is now chilling with the BIG boys in heaven. Sunday the 8th of May last year was the day he breathed his last. Time does fly. I recall that day like it was yesterday. I have visited Dad’s grave several times in an attempt to connect with him just one more time. It was also in May ten years ago that a pretty baby shark we had also went to heaven. We laid her body to rest at Langata cemetery. So we can say I’ve got family there as weird as that sounds.
I will not be superstitious and say that May is a bad month. It just so happened that sir God chose to call my two beloved people in the same month almost ten years apart. I’m not sure I have mourned my dad. I don’t even know what mourning looks like. A friend once told me not to program or plan how I will process the loss. “Everyone mourns differently”, she said. I found that comforting. I’m subconsciously waiting for a meltdown and it hasn’t happened yet. Truly death is a strange thing and because it has no dry run on those left behind, we have to take it as it comes and go through the motions best we can.
I mentioned last week that we feel the gap the most when someone departs. I remember the glowing tributes we poured on former president Kibaki over the last two weeks. It made me appreciate what he had done for this nation much more than I did when he was president. And isn’t that our nature? We say all the good things about people when they are gone. Wouldn’t it be better to compliment them when they can hear us?
The fact that I expressed my appreciation to my mzee when he was still with us has given me great comfort over the last year. Just like we all are, dad had his flaws. But he also had many strong attributes which we tried to acknowledge and communicate to him. Like most African men of his generation, he showed love through his actions. During the Easter break last month, I drove my family to Soysambu Ranch for a short holiday. As we passed the former toll station at Gilgil (which always reminds me of former Limuru MP Kuria Kanyingi somehow), I remembered how many years ago Dad ran over an impala crossing the road at night.
He was returning home from Nakuru. There were some Masai guys nearby who offered to slaughter the animal when he stopped. To cut the long story short he got home way past our bedtime and went on to wake us up to eat impala choma. I was in primary school and can still sniff that sweet aroma, eating meat usiku. He was truly our hero. If that wasn’t love (mixed with adventure) then I don’t know what is. He was the ultimate alpha male that went hunting and brought his cubs meat. Forgive the wildlife photographer in me with that description hehe.
Another incident of dad’s invisible reputation (the good you do when no one is watching or when there is no expectation of personal reward) was in May last year from the staff of a microfinance he co-founded years back. One of them shared how their guard at the office was dumbfounded upon hearing of Mzee’s passing on. He shared how dad would always engage him without pulling rank and that made him feel valued and appreciated. Dad’s mechanic also recently asked (more like begged) me to service mzee’s car because dad always took care of it. The mechanic still wants to honour mzee because he was more than a client to him, almost like a father. We live forever through our random acts of kindness to others. That’s how not to die folks. Be kind.
I love that ability to connect with the folks at the top and those at the bottom and feel completely at home. His memory lives on and we are still proud to carry his name. My siblings and I are fairly responsible Kenyans and that’s a symbol of success in my eyes. That he left the world better than he found it. That’s exactly how I want to be remembered. To leave evidence of good work by my baby sharks turning out better than their father. So thank you for setting a good example for us to follow. I am still trying to copy-paste a lot of how you lived one year later. I particularly want to speak less and observe more. I admired your silent power and want to ape it.
That’s how I choose to remember my dad on the first anniversary of his absence on earth. And I dedicate this tribute to him and everyone who has lost a loved one. It described him and this is how I want to be described too.
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much.
Who has enjoyed the trust of pure women, the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children.
Who has filled his niche and accomplished his task.
Who has never lacked the appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it.
Who has left the world better than he found it.
Whether an improved puppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul.
Who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had.
Whose life was an inspiration,
Whose memory is a benediction.
Bessie Anderson Stanley, 1904
Continue resting in peace mzee. I’m blessed to have had you well into my 40s. Thank you for showing me what true success looks like.
I am a great believer in enjoying relationships with the old and the young, the senior and the junior. Indeed I assume that.
What a beautiful tribute to your Dad. He had the most beautiful smile and I see that in you and the baby sharks 🤗