I remember our introduction, and the way your big, bright eyes watched me. I remember your radiant smile at the words “Lovely, this is your other big brother.” I think that was the moment you captured me.
You were a nexus of positivity. Nobody could remain in your presence and stay miserable. I remember many an evening returning from an exhausting workday, just plopping down next to you, and you’d turn towards me and smile, and my heart would soar. How readily you smiled. How heartily you laughed, even when you were the one being made fun of.
You’d get excited at the idea of wearing shoes and of going on car rides, to the extent that everybody did their best to keep up a constant supply of both. Your sheer delight at being put behind the wheel, albeit of a parked car, is one of those pure things the fondest memories are made of.
Oh, and what cheek you had. What spirit. Should anybody stare at you too long, you would laboriously articulate “Look elsewhere” (I suspect your other brother is to thank for that one). I really enjoyed the way you’d snap at anybody who came too close to your food, or bothered you when you were feeling cranky.
All in all, you did not have the mentality of one who is a prisoner of her own body. Your affliction waxed and waned, waxed and waned, and through your ordeal you kept fighting. You bore it all. The medication that tasted foul and left you in a daze for hours, the scans where you had to stay still and found it really, really hard to, the painful physiotherapy… This past couple of years, I’ve seen you shoulder a burden most adults balk at, and you’d been at it a while already. You were bravery given human form.
This past Saturday was the last time I got to say to you “See you later, little girl.” Even as I write these words, I can’t help but desperately hope your occasional 3 a.m. mad laughter from one of your dreams would wake me up from this bleak reality from which you are removed.
You were in our mother’s arms, surrounded by many who loved you, when you went.
I hope you knew. I hope you were aware of our love for you. Despite the times when our words couldn’t reach you, I hope you knew from our actions how much affection and admiration we all had for you. I hope you knew that you were a paragon of beauty to us. You lit our lives like a second sun.
At ease, little soldier. You fought valiantly. Nothing can harm you now.
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| Hanging out with her big bro, Lovely Sandra Mankono August 5th, 2004 - February 1st, 2014 |
