It’s always interesting to witness the simplistic reactions to grief management, and those who are immersed in unimaginable pain, and yet are forced to dutifully fulfill obligations for public appraisal.
People are moved by strength and the uncanny ability to perform with enviable stoicism in the face of a real-life horror that would surely knock us out, and leave us in a revived state of sedation.
But why is that the common assessment levied on those, who despite the lifelong suffering ahead, and the current status of disbelief and shock, still manage to show up and spread love and light in the wake of blinding darkness?
When my maternal grandfather suddenly passed away months after my 10th birthday, after gross negligence led to a diabetic coma that he never recovered from, the swelled up emotions were perplexing.
Due to his illustriousness as a revered judge in his district in the Eastern region of Nigeria, the ceremonial and intricate details behind the arrangements for his final goodbye, completely hijacked the immediate attention of my parents and family members.
But once the elaborate festivities were over, the dust didn’t really settle for the girl who desperately loved the grandpa who made great use of the too short time that he shared with the devoted granddaughter he knew so well.
