The little things matter. I thought I knew. Or maybe I just never realized how much. Till I heard mum’s screech which jolted me straight out of sleep.
“Ufedo! James is dead!”
I don’t think I will ever forget those words. Because hearing them made me start to remember the little things. How he always bade me farewell and welcome each time I left to and returned from work, or anywhere else for that matter. How, in his usual jovial nature, he would hail my brother, “Sir Jay!” or ask my friends for his New Year gift each time they came visiting.
You see, James may have been “just” a security guard, but because of the little things, his absence has left a void. Now each time I go out or return and no one greets me, I will remember James and his peculiar ways. Each time I look around the garden, I will remember how James looked after the plants and did so many other things around the house, beyond guarding the gate. Each time I have to count the number of people I have to cook for, I will remember that James is no more. We always included him in our meals. He had become family.
He was sick for a while, he got treatment and we all thought it would be fine. His condition escalated quickly that cool Monday morning. And as the rain fell heavily later that night, we received the news. James was gone. Just like that. It still feels surreal. As soon as I heard the news, I began to pray for a miracle. If Jesus could do it once with Lazarus, surely He could do it again, this time with James.
But as I write this, we have just returned from the burial. Somehow, it forces me to accept that James is gone and in place of the little things, now is a void. It still feels surreal.
“Ufedo! James is dead!”
If I close my eyes and listen hard enough, I will hear those words exactly how mother said them that rainy Monday night. And they will remind me, if I ever forget, that the little things matter.
Rest in Peace, James.
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