by Kenzo Ifeanyi Udenze

“Saying she was my homie is quite ironical because of cause, she was a girl, but still, she was my homie.”

 

Its hard to express these emotions. Its really hard not to cry. I’ve lost a piece of my destiny. We’re no longer intertwined.

Will I find her again in someone? I hope. For this life is sad and I feel like I just can’t cope.

Tracy was my best friend, my homie, my bestie. Saying she was my homie is quite ironical because of cause, she was a girl, but still, she was my homie. We shared a connection and bond beyond anything I thought I’d ever feel in this life. I thought she and I would be together till we were old and grey, but life isn’t fair.

I was at home that day with my brother and friend, when I had this sudden urge to check my facebook account, which is something I don’t do often.

Scrolling through my timeline, I saw a status written on my homie’s page, it read: ‘R.I.P Tracy, I still can’t believe you’re gone’. The first thought that went through my head was OMG? What kind of a sick joke is this? Tracy can’t be dead. I replied the person with harsh words and immediately, I go to her wall where I see so many messages of condolences. At this point, I’m in shock, disbelief and denial.

How could this happen? Tracy couldn’t be dead, these were the thoughts that went on in my head till I told my younger brother what I had just seen and he too was in disbelief; Tracy was his friend too and we couldn’t deal with this bad news. I pinged her after I told him, but the message didn’t deliver which I didn’t see as such a big deal because it’s a known fact that our Nigerian service providers aren’t always ‘on point’. So I figured it was network and didn’t even let the thought of her being dead come to mind.

Two days later, my mom got a call from her aunt confirming her death and gave details on how she passed. Her aunt told us that Tracy had left for Abuja with her mother. The reason for the trip was for Tracy to go to the embassy and get her papers done. She stayed with a friend in Abuja and was about having her bath when she slipped and fell. Her friend heard a great thud, and went in only to see Tracy on the floor unconscious and in a coma. She was rushed to the hospital, but didn’t make it. She died.

I just stood there in silence, mad at the world, mad at myself, mad at the people she was with. I was mad at everything and everyone, but as mad as I was, I was also very sad and heart broken. I looked over to where my brother was and there he sat, in silence, tears rolling down his face, I looked at my mother, no tears but I could see the shock and disbelief in her face. I circled back to myself, I was sad, I was in tears, I was broken, I thought of so many things, and wondered if she thought of me before she went to that better place in the sky. I left the sitting room and walked into my room to have a good cry; all the while asking: ‘Tracy what do you want me to do?’

I was lost, sad, dead inside. My heart was crippled. How would I recover from this, how? You see movies where someone dies and the actor moves on, it isn’t easy but he/she does anyway, but this was way different. This wasn’t a movie, no director to say ‘cut’ and she’ll be fine again. None of that, just pure pain and heart ache and I didn’t know how I’d get out from that place of darkness I was in.

It seemed the pain would just follow me. I reminisced on how much fun we had together, our dance battles, movie nights, culinary wars, and our theme song and it just made me cry even more because I knew I had lost a connection, the kind most people long for but never really find. I had lost my homie and I couldn’t do anything about it. I would never see her again, never feel her again, never hold her again… And just like that, ‘my homeboy was gone.

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Kenzo Ifeanyi Udenze is a student of the department of English Language,Lagos State University (LASU). A lover of indie music, he hopes to someday travel the world and explore, and not be boxed up in the place he’s known all his life.

30 Days, 30 Voices series is an opportunity for young Nigerians from across the world to share their stories and experiences – creating a meeting point where our common humanity is explored.

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija