Today, as I sit uncomfortable here in my house after walking around and seeing a million graves, I am struck by the weight of what it means to leave this world. The sheer number of lives, each with its own story, reminds me of the inevitable journey we all must take. Some of those who have departed are still lying down in the morgue, naked and cold, unable to speak or even ask for water. When the time comes for me to depart, I hope you won't dwell in sorrow. Instead, I ask that you remain silent, save your words, and cherish the joyful moments that warmed my heart. As I transition into rest, I wish to do so in peace. My departure will serve a purpose, and if you find yourself missing me, seek my presence quietly in the familiar spaces of my home among my books, letters, photographs, and the hastily scribbled notes I left behind. Embrace my belongings: wear my shirts, sweater, and jacket. Walk in my shoes, and make my room, pillow, and bed your own. If it grows cold, wrap yourself in my scarves. Enjoy the chocolate and wine I left behind, listen to the songs I cherished, use my perfume, and tend to my plants. Should my body be interred, do not be afraid. Let your tears flow freely, let the wind touch your face, and immerse yourself in the poetry, music, and melodies that life offers. Kiss the earth, drink the water, and listen to the birds' song. If my absence feels overwhelming, try to conceal it and search for me in the faces of children, in the aroma of coffee, on the radio, and in the places where I used to hide. Avoid using the term "death" sometimes being forgotten is more sorrowful than dying and being remembered. When I am gone, bring flowers to my grave and declare with conviction that life continues. The essence of life persists beyond my physical presence; those who truly live are never entirely lost but merely rest temporarily, with eternal rest being just an expression. When I die, don't worry about my body. My relatives will handle everything according to their means they will remove my clothes, wash me, dress me, and take me from my home to my new address. Many will come to my funeral to "say goodbye." Some will cancel commitments and miss work to attend. My belongings, even those I didn't want to lend, will be sold, given away, or burned. My keys, tools, books, shoes, clothes all will be dealt with, and rest assured that the world will not stop to cry for me. The economy will continue, and my job will be filled by someone else. My assets will go to my heirs, and I will continue to be cited, judged, questioned, and criticized for the things I did in life. People who knew me only by appearance will comment, “Poor man or woman!” or “He or she had a great time!” My sincere friends will cry for a few hours or days, then return to laughter, while the “friends” who only sought to party with me will forget me quickly. My animals will adjust to their new owner. My photos may hang on the wall or remain on a piece of furniture for a while, but eventually, they may be stored in a drawer. The deep pain in my home will fade, and eventually, my story will become a memory. Someone else will sit on my couch and eat at my table. The deep pain in my home will last a week, two, a month, or even a year, then I will be added to the past. But as I begin my story in my new reality my life after death I will not take with me the things from here. Body, beauty, appearance, last name, comfort, credit, state, position, bank account, home, car, profession, titles, diplomas, medals, trophies, friends, places, spouse, family all will remain behind. In my new life, I will only need my spirit. The value I have accumulated here will be the only fortune I will have there. That fortune is amassed through a life of love and peace with others. Therefore, I hope to have lived fully and been happy while I was here, because, “From here you won't take what you have. You'll only take what you gave.” On the day of my farewell, many who loved me will gather. They will contribute generously to my send-off. My friends will dance and celebrate my life and the memories we shared. Some will attend out of curiosity to know where I come from, while others will struggle with their heartbreak. My mother will never forgive death for taking me, and my love partner will say, “I want to tell you that I love you.” My crush will say, “I wanted to give you my final answer, but you are no more.” I hope that when you extend your hand, you may sense my touch, knowing that I will always be beside you. One day, with a smile, you will feel my return, and I will be with you forever. —Dmax Scarlage, 2024 © 2024 Dmax Scarlage. All rights reserved. #fromtheheartartofkibera #dmaxscarlageke