If Tomorrow Comes

 

The other day I was reading about man flu. It wasn’t a random read like it was with the "late Peter’s" story. It was a writer whose stories I read quite often. There was a man with man flu. I was wondering if man flu also qualifies as an illness. An exaggerated cold... ?

Alongside the man flu story was another embedded; a tragic short story. It left me wondering how too much life can be for someone. 

I haven’t left my father’s house yet, I still have a bedroom at the furthest end of the house. Whenever the dogs bark at night it hits my ears first before it lands on the rest of the family’s. Sometimes I ponder, the world within vs the outside world, and I feel like I’m not ready. 

I know that’s lily-livered, a man dies in the battle field. A man dies trying. Out in the cold, in the wilderness at the claws of man-eaters. Nevertheless, a man needs help too. When life becomes too cruel a man goes back to his family to rejuvenate. To his wife or to his mother. I would still go back and knock my father's door. Even Christ is over 2000 years but still lives in his father’s house.

On the contrary, what happens when a man lives in a solo world ?

Life happened to Jeff. I try to see him when I close my eyes but I can’t quite capture what he looks like. I only see his dark shadow but then I can’t form a human out of it. I read about him one more time and I got a glimpse of him. I saw him. He is dark, medium height and dressed in a black jacket. He has a black cap and black pants. Everything about him is leaden. He has a mom who is dead worried about him, maybe the only person who cares.

On June 7^th life became too much for Jeff. I tend to think he was depressed. Depression gives you suicidal thoughts. It literally hauls you to your grave. It's worse if you decide to face the battle alone. This monster puts a gun right on your metacarpus and mollycoddles you to put a bullet inside your skull.

He wrote this...

“What I need today is love… I am on my way to Kinoo to book a room and kesho am in the news…alot will be said about me but what I want you all to know is I was tired! I saw no future… I felt empty…it was not the same… My Mum keeps on calling me…I guess she feels that the son will be gone by midnight… I wanted to write but someone will about me”

I read it, but first I thought it was a poetic response to the man flu story. I read it one more time and I was convinced it wasn't a poem. I reached out to him, I told him we can talk.  I told him to call me, if he had the strength to dial. 

It's after I reached out that the other readers got curious to read his comment. I received a couple of phone calls that evening. When I picked the first strange call, I was happy. I thought I would hear a broken male voice in resounding pain. I thought the conversation would start with " You dropped your number so we can talk..."  Or "hey there, I'm Jeff..."

Sadly it was not him, it was a female voice asking me if Jeff called me. I was disappointed but also happy that others cared too. Everyone was asking if Jeff reached out. No Jeff didn't guys. My phone number is still there waiting for Jeff to click on it. I didn't want to picture what was going to happen in the middle of that night at a room in Kinoo. It disturbed me, I wanted to listen to Jeff and change his mind. We wanted to help him see the good side of life, but poor Jeff didn't call. There was no other way out, just to sit and HOPE something changes. 

I guess he didn't go back to read his words another time. He would have found our well written pieces. He would have seen love in them, it's love that he needed. He would have seen my contact and called, but maybe he thought no one cared.

I don't want to imagine otherwise. I want to convince myself that he was writing a poem... Good Lord I hope he changed his mind. I hope Jeff saw another rising sun.

Hope!