Chasing Greatness :A Journey Of Hope

chapter 14:

The news of her death spread quickly, and people flocked to pay their respects. Tears flowed freely, and the weight of sorrow was almost unbearable. My mom, despite everything that had happened between them, was inconsolable. She wept openly, mourning the woman who had once been her closest ally. Even though their relationship had soured, my mom’s heart remained soft, and she never wished ill on her.

Her children sat huddled in a corner, their faces pale and stained with tears. Their grief was raw and unfiltered, and it broke my heart. I couldn’t shake the sadness either. She wasn’t supposed to die—not like this. Her kids were still young, still needing her guidance and love. Life felt so unfair. As I watched the mourners around me, I couldn't stop the questions flooding my mind. Why does death have to snatch people away like this? How does someone so full of life suddenly disappear?

Her family gathered in whispered discussions, their hushed voices buzzing with disbelief and suspicion. Some, I’m sure, must have silently pointed fingers at my mom, given the tension between them in recent years. But I knew my mom better than anyone. She didn’t have that kind of malice in her heart. She was broken, just like everyone else.

The elders of the family made a decision: they would "call her spirit" to find out what had killed her. In my tribe, when someone dies suddenly or in mysterious circumstances, there’s a belief that their spirit can be summoned to speak and reveal the truth. I had always found the tradition strange, even eerie. How could the dead speak? Yet, I stayed quiet, curious about what they might discover.

Meanwhile, my dad was shaken to his core. His favorite sister was gone, and her death hit him hard. He could hardly bear the thought of losing her, especially when he was miles away. In a rush of panic and grief, he bought the next available ticket back to Nigeria.

The house was heavy with grief, questions, and the faint hope that somehow, answers would come.I saw them returning, their faces clouded with sadness and confusion. My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to my mom, desperate to know if my aunt had really spoken to them. The thought of it sent shivers down my spine.

“Mom,” I asked hesitantly, “did she... did Auntie really talk to them?”

My mom sighed heavily and shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she replied, her voice low and somber. “Back in the day, they said you could actually see the spirit in a mirror. It was scary, but that’s how it worked then. Now, it’s different. The juju man speaks with the spirit on behalf of the family and relays what was said.”

Her explanation only made the situation feel more surreal. Imagining my aunt’s spirit communicating through someone else felt both eerie and sad. I wondered how much of it was true and how much was just tradition.

According to the juju man, there were many factors involved in my aunt’s death. He mentioned something about  the man she dated bros, and hinted at issues that left the family puzzled. The details were vague and cryptic, and I could see the disappointment etched on their faces. It was clear they hadn’t gotten the answers they were seeking.

The air was thick with unspoken questions and unease. My mom looked exhausted, as if the weight of it all was too much for her. Watching her, I realized that sometimes, even answers don’t bring the closure we hope for.