One Life...

It has taken me a long time to write this and every so often it will come up in my head. I have wrote this blog post many times over but whenever it comes to typing it out, the words fail.

How can I write about someone who died when he was only a few years older than me?

How can I write about my friends standing up at the front of the church, beside a coffin saying goodbye to their friend?

How can I write about the piercing cries of the mother, and brother and sister of Wizeye?

This probably won't come out like I would want it to, because something that seems so simple as dying is actually so complex, so confusing, and so...personal. Wizeye died over two months ago, but his life hasn't stopped changing others’ lives.

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I sit here, cursor blinking waiting for me to press the keys to form words and sentences, but none seem to come.

Let's start from the beginning:

Before we left to Canada in September a boy named Wizeye began staying at David Family. My dad told me that he was sick with kidney problems. Wizeye went back to his home in the village and a couple weeks went by. Then, the last Friday before we flew to Canada Wizeye was back at David Family. "He's very very sick" my dad told me. "He will probably die."

Ouch.

As I looked at him, I figured that he could have only been a few years older than me. He was tall, thin and solemn. Uncle Mulu gave him a big box of medicine and then he walked to the banda. That was the last time I saw him.

We went to Canada. Time passed. I sent an email to one of my friends, asking her for the news of New Hope.

She wrote "There's a young man, named Wizeye Joesph, whose kidney is failing, he's dying."

Ouch.

I prayed for him.

We got back to Uganda and I asked about him. He was at the hospital. I'm not even sure how soon after we got back but one day I was working in the office. My dad got out of a meeting and we were walking home for lunch. "Wizeye died before lunch. Uncle Jonnes just found out."

Ouch.

The thing is, I didn't really know him. I only saw him and greeted him. But my heart was sad. He was only a few years older than me, and the thing that I thought of the rest of the way home was "It could have been me."

The burial was the next day. 10 o'clock. At the church.

10 o'clock rolled around.

We went to the church.

We sang songs.

"When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot though has taught me to say

It is well It is well with my soul

It is well, It is well

With my soul, with my soul

It is well, It is well with my soul."

I looked up at the people singing. My friends from David Family. My friends from my worship team. Singing at their friends funeral. Their eyes were full of tears, songs that usually came so easily were a struggle.

Members of David Family shared about Wizeye's life. That Wizeye had dreamed that there was going to be a big party when he was out of the hospital and everyone would celebrate. I saw my friend Agnes stand up in front of many of people and say that she's waiting for that party in heaven, and it will be the best celebration that there could ever be.

I watched my friend Hadassah stand up in front of all those people and tell about how she and Wizeye went to the same doctor. They had completely different conditions, she has juvenile arthritis while he had kidney problems but those hours waiting together to get blood drawn and tests done created a friendship. She told how she would go and visit him when he was in the hospital and how much she would miss him.

It started raining. I remember thinking How appropriate. Even the sky is sad. But that wasn't all. The sun came out and on one side of the church it poured rain, while the other side was bright with the sun shining, and somewhere outside there was a rainbow. God's promise, because even in the darkest times, God sends His light and His promises. 

Then we watched a video, of Wizeye's last words to his classmates and friends. A girl behind me began moaning and then it turned into uncontrollable sobs...only later did I realize that it was Wizeye's sister that sat behind me.

We walked up to where they were going to bury him. Someone started singing a Luganda hymn and they began to mix concrete. They lowered the body in, and then the wails of a girl filled the air. I can still hear it echoing in my ears. Wizeye's sister. Crying out, screaming, in deep mourning. Two ladies led her out but the crying continued. We could hear it and not too long later, her brother was led out, and then their mother. All weeping for the one they had lost. 

Picture from www.choosingtoliveanundauntedlife.com

And then we were left. We went home. Life continued as normal. The concrete over Wizeye's body hardened. 

But the life that he led didn't stop changing others. For I still think about him. I thought of him while I studied about the kidney in Biology and how his didn't work. But that's not all. He taught me that even when you are sick and dying there is always something to be thankful for, that there is always something to praise God for. He didn't turn bitter. He loved God, even when he was dying.

Wizeye taught me to be thankful for the life that I have. And that I have it so easy. I have a father. I moved across the world because my family wanted to. I have enough to eat. I go to school. I have a bed in a safe, dry house. I have all these things. Wizeye didn't. I should have nothing in common with him. We are from different sides of the world. We have lived completely different lives. One thing is the same though, we both love God. 

The life that Wizeye had was just one life in the billions of people who have lived on this Earth. It was just one life. One short life. His life wasn't grand or important. He wasn't rich or famous. But his one life, has taught me more than many lives will. Tonight, I thank God for Wizeye's life and for all it has taught me.