Even in Death, I love you.

We were one yet were clearly apart. We were soul mates that lived out our lives with other souls. We felt each other in our breaths. Our hearts beat to the same rhythm. We shared the same rhyme to each heartbeat. We were lovers who loved other lovers. We lived and loved and yet we never loved enough. You said you deserved better and I was smitten enough to think you had found better elsewhere so I let you go. When you left, the lights in my life went dim and I realized I needed a candle to light my path. That was when I met Samantha. She was just a candle. A wax candle that lit my path for while before she melted away. You were always a LED light-very brilliant, very fulfilling and amazingly efficient in lighting my world and all those around me. The wax candle was just a sorry excuse of a light to see me through the night. When the night wore weary and gave in to the day, the sun rose over the horizon with a million dazzling rays of beauty. That was you. That was when you came back to me. The darkness in my life scattered in a frenzy to I don’t care where.
All over a sudden, the gloom of the night before and the slow agonizing smoke and unsteady light of the melting wax candle was forgotten. You told me that there was no better out there. You said better was right here with me and you made me feel like Museveni in 1986 after the bush war. Your confession gave me wings and your bright smile with flawless teeth gave me a flight pattern. I always took to the sky by just the thought of you and the sound of your voice always got me gliding and landing in your bosom. The nights were cozy and ecstatic with you under the shimmering moonlight beyond the vast expanse of savannah-swathed hills and valleys that surrounded Ndali lodge in fortportal where we spent a fortnight in the Xmas holidays of the leap year. You told me it was a magical moment because that was the only leap year of our century. We sang songs and made love with the intent of making life. Then we thought you had conceived and we visited La’vante’s shop for baby clothes. Five days we laughed and giggled at each of the cute little pink dresses at La’vante’s. Then your menstrual cycle came and we are heart-broken. Our worlds seemed to merge in that one moment and stop for thousands of micro-moments. That was when your mom called and invited us over for a cook-out. That invite brought color back to our lives, our orbits revolved again and the flowers in our miniature garden blossomed and eager flying insects visited our compound. There was life all over us and it smelled so good against the beautiful backdrop of the April skies.
At your mom’s place in Entebbe, life seemed so gorgeous. We watched the sunrise together each morning and took walks together in the silent sequestrated neighborhood. We sang with the owl by night and with the Robin by dawn. We mocked the neighbor’s cock that crowed and walked around like he was trying to take all credit for the dawn. You said that cock had the attitude of a horny, short dude with delusions of grandeur. You imitated him sometimes and your cock-a-doodle-doo sound got me laughing until I almost choked. On our last night at your mom’s was when you first started losing your grip. Your hands shook so bad that you broke two of your mom’s most prized china at the sink. We had no idea what it was. We prayed about it and went to bed. Your shaking persisted. We went away to the prayer mountain and interceded for days on end. Home never seemed like home again without your smile and vibrant voice running through the walls of the house we called home. You grew silent and that worried me. So we sought the help of doctors. The Ugandan doctor’s only kept speculating so we took a flight to Johannesburg. We waited a week for the results. That aging , soft-spoken Zulu doctor said you had Lou Gehrig's disease. We shared the same fear in our glances at each other and we knew that we were headed for the worst. So we bought new Bibles and prayed together more often. God spoke to us. We listened. We understood his supreme purpose for each of us. We never questioned him. At Entebbe, our families received us. We brought back the bad news but we were strong and we renewed our vows. We knew that despite the sorrow and pain around us, joy came from within. Our joy kept us happy. Happy in a sad way. Happy was all we needed. Each other was all we had. We watched the sunrise together whenever you had the strength to and we laughed and cried whenever we viewed our albums. We hardly left the house. You were strong. You fought the disease that unrelentlessly ate your life away. Later your fasciculations, cramps, spasticity, muscle weakness got worse and you developed slurred and nasal speech the doctor said that time was nigh. I cried and prayed all night.
I woke up by your side and you were smiling. You were smiling but your were gone. You left me while I slept but you left me a note. That note was the smile on your lips. It was I note that said I love you. My tears choked my breath and blurred my vision. You left me with a light to see me through the rest of my days. I will never need no wax candle again.
Lou Gehrig's disease is ALS. If you have ever lost a loved one to ALS or any of the dreaded chronic diseases, you know how I feel. Rest in Peace my love. Until we meet again, Love lives no more.