I TOLD you about my mother’s death on this page a couple of weeks ago. Many thanks, from the bottom of my aching heart, to the many Vanguard readers who sent me sweet condolence messages.

One reader – a gentleman I have never had the privilege of meeting – even insisted on sending money to assist me with funeral expenses. I was blown away by his generosity. Such altruistic gestures remind us that there are some extraordinarily decent humans on this planet.

So it’s over. Mummy was buried in Bodo, my late father’s village in Ogoniland, last week. And I’m still basking in the warm glow of the love I received from friends, relatives and Catholic Church personnel who helped me and my sister Lela say farewell to our dear matriarch.

Some showed up in person to provide emotional and practical support. Others could not be in Rivers State on that date but still delivered considerable moral and financial support from afar.

Mere words cannot adequately express my gratitude to everyone who stood by us and cheered us up. May God bless you all.

Grim thoughts

I’M back in Abuja now, try

ing to come to terms with orphanhood and trying to put morbid thoughts of death behind me. But my mother no longer occupies my spare bedroom; and depression – whether constant or sporadic – is normal when you lose a parent.

I cannot prevent myself from gloomily dwelling on the fact that life is fragile and that, at 63, I’ll be lucky to last another decade.

Sure, there are robust individuals all over the world who keep going till they are over 100 years old. But these “super agers” are unusual.

Average life expectancy in Nigeria is only 55 because Nigeria is so horribly stressful and quality hospitals are thin on the ground.

Meanwhile, lots of people, including rich folks in developed countries like the UK (average life expectancy 81) who have access to the best possible expensive private healthcare facilities don’t make it to 70.

My mother was also very painfully aware of mortality issues even before she fell ill. I remember her applying for a foreign visa circa 2014 and being given a five- or 10-year option. She was extremely reluctant to pay the higher fee for 10 years because she wasn’t sure she would still be alive or well enough to travel for 10 more years.

She was right to worry. By 2016, she was on a steady downward spiral, both physically and mentally; and travel was kinda pointless.

My mother was very health conscious. She watched her weight. She exercised. She didn’t smoke. She didn’t drink much alcohol. She ate healthily. She was into vegetable and fruit smoothies long before they became commonplace. But though she didn’t go to meet her Maker until she was 87, her final years were miserable. Frankly, I would rather die now than go through what she went through.

Any ways, let’s be positive and think about the glass being half-full rather than half-empty. What I have learned from my experiences is that most of us waste too much time on trivial hostilities or futile rubbish and should live each day as if it is our last day on earth.

One good thing about mummy’s death is that a handful of relationships that had ended for silly reasons were reinstated.

Rifts were rapidly healed as various friends, relatives and I realised that the things that had once bound us together were far more important than the things that had driven us apart.

Long story short: Even if you make it to 100 plus in good shape, life is too short, so please make sure that you make the best of whatever hand you are dealt by the Almighty.

I will never forget the nurse who worked in a British hospice and said that when her patients knew that they were dying, they were less afraid of death than regretful about the things they never did.

So carpe diem, dear Vanguard Readers! Seize the day! Use your talents. Value and nurture your relationships with worthwhile people.

Focus on pursuing happiness and being kind to those around you.

Focus on achieving the right kind of success. Wealth based on theft of public funds is spurious. Election “victories” based on rigging and violence are a disgrace. Respect earned via integrity is priceless.

A POEM

What is dying?

I am standing on the seashore.

A ship sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.

She is an object and I stand watching her

Till at last she fades from the horizon,

And someone at my side says, “She is gone!” Gone where?

Gone from my sight, that is all;

She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her,

And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.

The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her;

And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “She is gone”,

There are others who are watching her coming,

And other voices take up a glad shout,

“There she comes” – and that is dying.

 By Charles Henry Brent,

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