This Thing Called Life

This Thing Called Life

Turning twenty-five was a hard one for me. The very first thought I had that very bright and sunny morning was a melancholic one. An unshakeable, overwhelming and tangible presence of death cocooned me. My heart was heavy, and all that I was able to see was the fleetingness and inevitability of death. And worst of all, try as I may, I couldn't for the life of me shake off the gloom that was eating me alive on a day I was supposed to be celebrating. My emotions were raw, and as usual, they led me to a question which in this case was: why do we do this thing called life?

My mind kept questioning why the people who claim to love you the most in this world would subject you to this treacherous journey? A journey that promises (and never fails to deliver) pain yet makes pleasure a possibility rather than a guarantee. Joy, happiness, love, serenity, and contentment are all things we have to work hard and tirelessly for while the obverse is a 24hr-7 day a week buffet that never stops flowing. It seems almost disloyal for anyone to bring life into this world when the only known fact is 'everything that lives will eventually die.'

As I lay there wallowing under my covers, my answer came to me as effortlessly as time passing. We subject each other to this life only because in the midst of all this darkness we are each other's lighthouses. It is in our journey to find and achieve our purpose -together- that we are able to make our bleeps in history worth every unfortunate side effect of our existence. It is by teaching each other to see beauty that we ourselves embrace the beauty we see. It is by looking for love that we understand what love is. So in a nutshell, we knowingly welcome people to live (and die) because without them there will be no sense to our own lives.

So, yes, my time in this mortal coil is 25 years shorter, but it is a journey made worthy by those I've rubbed shoulders with during my small and temporary time on the dance floor (life). And one day, not too far away from today, I will be gone just like everyone before me. And I know, even as the angel of death welcomes me to my final home I will look forward at those who left me and backward to those I am leaving behind, and say 'Alhamdallah' (thank God) for the journey of a lifetime, because my lighthouses never allowed me to be left in the dark for too long. And for that, I am indebted to you all.

P.S. My cousin passed away the evening of my birthday. While 90% of the people reading this post have never heard of his name or anything else about his short life, I will like to request a prayer for him. Maybe someday a stranger you've never met might do the same for you too.



Kolawole Solomon

When my pen bleeds, expressions are kept close to my heart, and as it bleeds the words from deep within through my writings, I discover I have created art. I display a piece of my soul. This is my work, my blood, and it should be an object of pride, no matter how much it is criticized or praised.
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